


Youth is Wasted on the Young

by MoonSilverSprite



Series: The Law and the Paranormal [10]
Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Childhood, Childhood Trauma, Christmas, Family, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Kidnapping, Magic, References to Supernatural (TV), Team as Family, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Unsub | Unknown Subject, Witches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-03
Updated: 2020-01-27
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:14:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 22,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22100869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoonSilverSprite/pseuds/MoonSilverSprite
Summary: A witch decides to thank the BAU for saving her daughter. Unfortunately, her idea of a gift is turning their ages back 23 years. The spell will wear off on New Year's Eve, but the problem is that they still have to work on a case while hiding the fact that three of their agents are now children.While waiting for word from the brothers, the team have to relive their youth. Garcia mopes about being the wrong weight, Morgan is annoyed at being unable to flirt with her, JJ hates needing braces, Hotch doesn't want to spend Christmas away from Jack, Rossi feels awkward about being a parent and Reid can't reach the top shelf.On top of all this, the Unsub that they're tracking happens to not only be crafty, but has an accomplice that no-one knows about...EDIT: Changed a few paragraphs in Chapter Seven so that the second Unsub is slightly different.
Series: The Law and the Paranormal [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1520543
Comments: 5
Kudos: 108





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> While this is part of my _Law and the Paranormal_ series, this is not listed as a crossover since no-one from _Supernatural_ appears, with only references.

**December 18th 2015**  
**Quantico**

Hotch watched Mrs Frost as the woman hugged her daughter close to her in the main room. The girl – just thirteen years old – had just been saved by the BAU after they had found her class being held hostage by the Unsub in a storm shelter.

The woman – mid-forties with slightly graying black hair, small eyes, face far too pale to be normal with crow’s feet making this stand out more, wrapped in dark pink scarves and felt coat – looked up at Hotch with gratitude.

“Thank you for saving my daughter,” she told him, holding Ellie close, the girl somewhere between traumatized and embarrassed, “You know, I have to thank the whole team for what they did. It isn’t just one person and I know that.”

“Mom,” Ellie gritted her teeth, yanking on her mother’s arm, “Let’s go before you do anything stupid!”

Mrs Frost ignored her daughter. Hotch looked at the woman properly, wondering what she was talking about. Then the strange woman opened her locket around her neck, showing herself at a younger age.

“This was me,” she tapped with a painted purple nail, “in 1992. That was when I learnt all of this.”

“All of what?” Hotch seemed uncomfortable. He wasn’t sure what the woman was doing, but he didn’t want to have to call security to get a crazed, possibly relieved, mother out of here.

“I know this might sound absurd,” she closed the locket, her eyes still focusing on Hotch, “but I think of what I have as a gift. I just want to thank the people who saved my daughter’s life. What more could a mother do?”

She turned on her heel, holding her daughter’s hand as she led the girl out. Hotch stood in surprise for a moment, wondering what exactly had happened. He just brushed it off and decided to go to the bathroom if no-one else wanted to speak to him. His stomach had suddenly started playing up.

When he was in the bathroom, he grabbed onto the sink, suddenly feeling dizzy and his vision blurring.

“Aaron?” he heard Rossi say from the next sink over as he turned the tap off, “You okay?”

Hotch was about to answer when he threw up in the sink. He barely had any time to register that whatever he had vomited was black when he lay on the floor, clutching his stomach.

All he could do was look up at the florescent lights as they flickered above him. Hotch heard vomiting again, but this time it was from Rossi. Hotch wondered if maybe they’d eaten something funny.

He was about to call for help when the pain started to cease. His head, rather than feeling as if it had thrown into a tornado, seemed as light as a feather.

He pushed himself up on his hands, sitting down and his knees pointing up. He cocked his head when he took another look at Dave. The old man had grabbed onto the taps and was pushing himself up, a hand in his hair.

“Dave?” Hotch asked, concerned.

“I – I’m fine, Aaron.” Rossi replied and then looked at himself in the mirror. Jumping back in shock, he then focused properly, wondering if being sick had caused him to start to hallucinate.

His hair and beard were no longer graying. His skin didn’t seem to sag anymore and his clothes were looser. He looked _younger_.

Turning to Hotch to ask if his colleague could see the same thing, he felt a pit in his stomach when he took in what Aaron now looked like.

“Aaron? You look –“

But his colleague had already stood and then slowly turned his head to look in the mirror. His hands gripped his hair, which was now a little longer and scruffier. He looked half his age.

“I –“ he began, then remembered Mrs Frost. He explained quickly to Rossi what he thought was happening.

“Hold up, hold up,” Rossi held up his hands, “You’re saying that the mother of one of the two dozen kids we rescued happens to be a witch?”

“Well, try and explain this!” Hotch held his arms out at his sides, gesturing, “We need to call the brothers.”

“Say she is one,” Rossi tried to focus but that was hard when he found that he had lost about two stone and his superior now looked half the age he had been before, “She said that she ‘wished to thank us’?”

“How is turning me back into a frat kid _thanking us_?” Hotch nearly shouted, then his eyes widened.

“Good grief; JJ’s in the SUV.”

Racing outside into the corridor and to the elevator, the two men stopped when they saw both doors open and a very scared girl step out.

JJ’s blouse was now too big for her, her sleeves hanging down past her hands. Her shoes also smelt terrible. Hotch then looked out of the corner of his eye at the elevator as the exact same smell came from the slowly closing doors.

“What happened?” JJ was trying to stay calm under pressure but she still looked like a loud little girl. She also seemed to have trouble talking as she was lisping her words. Then she squinted. “Rossi? You look – younger.”

“We’ve all been hit,” Hotch turned his head to the glass doors and walked through them, “Where’s everybody else?”

As soon as he came in, he saw Morgan at one of the desks, also much younger. He had a short beard and a little more hair on his head. “Hotch?” he asked, clearly uncomfortable, “Why are we suddenly younger?”

“Pretty sure it’s a witch,” Hotch walked in sharply, as JJ sat in a chair behind him, rolling up her sleeves and trousers, “Where are Garcia and Reid?”

“Baby girl was in the tech room last time I saw her,” Morgan answered, “and Reid…”

Hotch stopped in his tracks as he saw the agent standing in the doorway of Rossi’s office. Like JJ, Reid’s clothes were now too big for him. His hair was also limp and longer and his front teeth were too big. Despite everything he was still holding a file in his hand.

“Hotch?” Reid’s high voice started to wobble, “Is this magic? I mean, I normally wouldn’t have said so, but it seems –“

“It’s a witch,” Hotch started to explain, coming up and opening the bullpen door, “Someone get Garcia and tell her to meet me in here. I’ll try calling the Winchesters.”

Rossi looked around the table in dismay and exhaustion. This morning the room had been filled with agents working to find a serial kidnapper and torturer. Now it looked like a classroom.

He tried to take in what his colleagues looked now. Rossi himself didn’t look too different aside from being slightly thinner and his white hairs had gone. But everyone else looked several years younger, particularly Reid and JJ, who were now shorter. Hotch seemed to be about the same age he had been when Rossi had first met him. Morgan had hair again. Garcia was wider around the middle and her hair was very short and platinum blonde. Clearly she had been through a disheveled phase at that time.

But with JJ and Reid it was another story entirely. JJ’s hair was limp and scraggly, her nails bitten and uneven and her face spotty. When she spoke everyone could see her braces and had an obvious lisp due to them. Reid resembled a scarecrow and that wasn’t just how he dressed. His hair was also long and his front teeth were quite big. He squinted when he read the booklet in front of him and pulled it close. Clearly he had worn glasses at that age.

Groaning inwardly, Rossi sat up straight and coughed. He needed a drink. Then he realized he was probably the only agent in the bullpen that could drink.

“Clearly the mother was a witch,” he spoke his thoughts aloud, “and this – is a big problem.”

“You’re telling me,” Garcia whined, “I have another three stone to lose!”

“First of all,” Hotch addressed the others, still stern even while baby-faced, “we have to work out exactly how old we are.”

“Well, I got these braces off just after my thirteenth birthday,” JJ sprayed her side of the table in a torrent of spit, “so I think that I’m – twelve years old.”

“And I’m pretty sure this hairstyle was from when I was fifteen,” Garcia rolled her eyes up to look at it, “Same with my weight, sadly.”

“I began shaving my head when I was twenty,” Morgan sat up straight, “But that doesn’t narrow anything down.”

“The witch said 1992,” Hotch mumbled, lowering the booklet and holding his head at an angle, deep in thought, “She said that she received ‘her gift’ in 1992. So I think that we’re the same age we were on this date in 1992.”

“Right, how old would that be?” Morgan asked around the table, “I was nineteen.”

“Just turned twenty-one.” Hotch replied.

“Eleven.” Reid answered.

“Forty-five,” Rossi sighed, pushing himself up from his chair, “and on Wife Number Two. But now we have the problem of looking younger.”

“I’m not going through puberty again,” JJ crossed her arms, “I’ll try and get the Winchesters. But everyone will notice a bunch of kids walking through Quantico.”

Everyone agreed that that was the main issue at hand, since the witch and her daughter had already gone home and getting a hold of the Winchesters was like trying to mine the top of Everest. “And what about until we get to our normal ages again?” Garcia asked, “I’m fifteen; I can’t live on my own.”

“And Jack certainly will ask questions if I come back as a twenty-one-year-old.” Hotch ran his hands down his face. He slid his phone over to JJ. “Their number’s in there. In the meantime, anyone up for coffee?”

“I’m too young.” JJ groaned, taking the phone and walking outside in order to listen properly. As Hotch left to go get one, he looked at her face as she listened to a dial tone. She still had that same concentrating, earnest expression on her face, even at that age.

Some things never seemed to change.

“Well that’s just great,” JJ walked back into the bullpen and put Hotch’s phone on the table, “Apparently the Winchesters are somewhere in Mt. St. Helens.”

“Couldn’t we use the jet?” Garcia asked.

“When I said ‘in Mt. St. Helens’, I _meant_ in,” JJ drew up her chair, “I had an answer from the angel who sounds like he’s gargling thumbtacks. I just need to look for hex bags or whatnot and try and do some weird thing to talk to Mrs Frost. At that was somewhat sensible. Now, first problem. How are we going to move around in our everyday lives? Henry can’t have a twelve-year-old mother.”

“And I can’t reach the pedal,” Reid piped up, “and our clothes are too big.”

“Did he give you any other information?” Hotch asked JJ.

JJ recalled the conversation. “This type of spell supposedly lasts a certain length of time. So whatever Mrs Frost did, it wasn’t permanent.”

“I’m going to put her on speaker,” Garcia pulled her phone out and dialed the number, “Stupid cow! Why couldn’t she have asked first?”

“Probably because we’d say no, baby girl.” Morgan sighed.

As the phone rang, Garcia gabbled to him awkwardly, “Don’t call me ‘baby girl’; you’ll probably be arrested.”

Before Morgan could say anything back, now feeling as if this certainly a curse, the phone answered.

“Mrs Frost?” Hotch cleared his throat, prepared to act rationally for the moment, “I’m calling to talk about something you may have done.”

“I know,” Mrs Frost sounded a little too happy, “I just wanted to help you as you helped Ellie –“

“I’m twelve!” JJ snapped back, her spittle flying across the table, “I’m not going back through puberty!”

There was a pause. Mrs Frost obviously seemed put out. “Okay,” she gave a heavy sigh, “But I can’t do anything right now. The spell lasts until New Year’s Eve at midnight.”

“But that’s twelve days, six hours and fifty-seven minutes away,” Reid argued, “Can’t you do anything?”

“It’s a gift,” Mrs Frost answered with a tiny hint of sarcasm, “It’s complicated. It involves a lot of magic. If I try and stop it early, you might end up stuck that age.”

There was silence for a few moments before Hotch asked, “Can one of us at least come around and see if you’re telling the truth?”

Mrs Frost sounded flustered. “I’m not a criminal!” But then a small voice came squeaking from elsewhere on her end. Obviously Ellie had heard about her mother’s magic and was livid. Then Mrs Frost sighed. “Okay. But I’m a good witch. You have to trust me.”

“Thank you, Mrs Frost. We’ll be there shortly.” Hotch abruptly ended their call and sat back down. He surveyed his team. He was prepared to spend the next fortnight as a twenty-one-year-old. But he wasn’t sure about the rest of the team.

Garcia and Morgan wouldn’t be allowed to flirt. JJ couldn’t go home to Henry and Will without questions. Reid was too young to be left alone at home. Hotch wasn’t sure what Rossi was feeling.

Hotch told the team that he was going to leave the grounds for a couple of hours. He was going to go home and then to a cheap store. He was sure that Reid might fit into some of Jack’s clothes, but he had no idea what to get JJ and Garcia. He just hoped they’d forgive him.

It had been a long time since she had brought anything for a young girl. He remembered getting Haley a dress for her birthday once. It was the wrong size and a horrible neon green, but she had laughed and kissed him all the same.

It was bad enough for Jack to have Christmas without his mother – although Hotch wasn’t sure how much the boy remembered – but it would be terrible without his father as well.

Half an hour later he left a thrift store, feeling rather embarrassed about the whole situation.

Once he got back to the bullpen, he placed the two bags on the table. “Sorry I couldn’t get the best clothes.”

“It’s fine,” JJ smiled up at him, but he knew that look. She hated them, but was too polite to say so.

As Reid, JJ and Garcia were getting changed in the bathrooms, Hotch faced Rossi and Morgan. “What are we going to do now that we all look younger? Everyone’s going to ask questions. Especially with those three.”

“Well Penelope doesn’t usually leave the tech room anyway,” Morgan pointed out, “But yeah; I see your point.”

“There aren’t any cases on at the moment, so it looks like we’re stuck here,” Rossi thought aloud, “And I think we wouldn’t be able to work with two agents down.”

Hotch crossed his arms. “I’ll see how Reid’s doing. I think the clothes might have been too big.”

Outside the bathroom, Hotch rapped on the door with his fingers. “Reid? Can I come in?”

“Yeah,” a small voice piped up. Hotch came in to see Reid had already changed, with his FBI suit and tie neatly folded on the bathroom sink.

Reid squinted up at Hotch as the man came in, “I think Jack spilt cola down the front and it didn’t wash out properly. Are you sure these are the right size? I could hardly read the tag though; my eyesight’s appalling.”

“Do you still have glasses from that time?” Hotch asked. He would probably be surprised if Reid didn’t, to be honest.

Reid nodded. “What about tonight? Where am I going to go?”

It was eventually decided that JJ and Reid would stay at Rossi’s house until New Year. Morgan would come and stay over at Garcia’s apartment since in theory she was too young to be there alone. Garcia had seemed a little flustered by the idea.

Hotch had to go home with Jack and Jessica. Of course, Jack would notice that his Daddy now looked far too young, but all Jack and Jessica had been told was that it was an experimental treatment that gave the facial appearance of looking younger. Still, he had noticed the way Jessica had looked at him. She hadn’t believed a word of it and even suspected that it wasn’t really Aaron.

They’d left late, after everyone had gone home. This was so that no-one would ask why there were random children inside the FBI. When JJ and Reid had arrived at Rossi’s house with a box each of essential items, Rossi couldn’t help but think that they looked as if they were going for a bizarre slumber party. Or a refugee camp.

“I have a spare room next to mine,” he had said when he locked the front door, “To be honest, it’ll be great spending Christmas with someone again.”

 _Spending it with children,_ was what he had really meant, but didn’t say this out loud.

“Do we sleep in the same room?” JJ asked, a little confused, standing holding the box at the bottom of the stairs. Reid was already trying to work his way up, squinting in front of him and reaching for the banister.

“I’ve only got one spare,” Rossi sighed and placed his hands in his pockets, “But I’ll see what I can fix up.”

“Thanks.” JJ told him and started following Reid up the stairs.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now onto the main plot.
> 
> The Unsub is inspired by the unidentified murderer 'Mr. Cruel' from Australia in the late Eighties and early Nineties, just in case you were interested. I read about this guy when I was _far_ too young to know about that sort of stuff.
> 
> My work makes more sense now, doesn't it?

**December 19th 2015**

Rossi didn’t know what to do in the morning.

He was certain that Reid and JJ were perfectly capable of looking after themselves, but the new heights made everything much more complicated. He thought about asking Hotch if Jessica could babysit them (despite the fact he knew both agents would be mortified) but he eventually drove them in to Quantico to go inside a spare lounge.

Rossi had been given a few odd looks when he suddenly turned up with two strange children. Although it was partly how they dressed. Reid was not that much of a surprise, as he still was neat and tidy even at eleven. But JJ had worn what she had considered the most practical of her thrift shop clothes (a white blouse with buttons and a collar) and a black blazer. She still tried to appear her best.

When they entered the bullpen, Hotch and Morgan looked up. “Why’d you bring them?” Morgan asked in confusion.

Rossi sighed as the two child agents stood in the doorway and looked up at him, Reid fiddling with his glasses. “I had no choice,” he eventually replied, looking worn out already.

Hotch sighed. “Just make sure no-one sees them. Where can they go?”

“With Garcia?” JJ suggested, “We’ve done it before.”

“Except that Reid had a broken leg then,” Hotch frowned at her, “They can go in your office.”

Reid quickly protested, even though JJ had already taken his hand and started to lead him out, “But I’ve already read of all the books in there.”

The computer screen turned on. Garcia was sitting there, peering out. “Just for the record, I hate this shirt,” she groaned, “It does nothing to flatter my stupid muffin top.”

“Sorry, Garcia,” Hotch turned around in his chair, “What’s on the agenda today?”

“Ah, yes,” she read her notes, “The Bethesda Stalker took another target last night. Par for the course; he usually strikes at this time of year.”

The three agents groaned inwardly. The Bethesda Stalker, as the media had christened him, even though after his fifth crime he strayed outside of Bethesda, was a crafty Unsub. If this was another one of his attacks, this would be his thirteenth victim. Eight had been found alive, but four were still missing and presumed murdered. Always striking during school vacation, the BAU had previously suggested that he could be a teacher and that he made his own pornography. When Ellie and her classmates had been abducted, at first there was speculation that they had been taken by this man, despite the fact that the Unsub had so far broken into his targets’ homes and only snatched boys.

The Unsub had always broken into the homes of middle-class, low-risk families around midnight. He would wake the parents before tying them up and demanding money. The Unsub wore a balaclava and would cut the phone lines before breaking in. The robbery was always a decoy, however, as he would then enter the room of his primary target, a boy aged nine to fifteen years. He would lock any other children in the house at the time into a wardrobe before he blindfolded and gagged his victim and took them away with him. The children that were discovered would be found between fourteen and fifty-five hours later, some way west of Bethesda.

The eight victims that had survived had been kept in darkness the whole time and were unable to tell the police much about their ordeals.

Victims one and four (Darren St. John, 11, Woodhaven, 26th December 2010; and Stuart Boyd, 9, Bannockburn, 10th July 2012) had said that the Unsub had smelt of cigarette smoke. Victims two and ten (Lester Hunt, 12, Woodburn, April 20th 2011, turned thirteen the day he was released, April 23rd; and Kerry Abram, 10, Rockville, April 6th 2015) had managed to see the carpet of the room they had been held in was white.

Victims five and six (Finn Maki, 14, Carderock Springs, November 27th 2012; and Tommy Daniels, 11, Rockville, March 15th 2013) had said that the Unsub had promised that they would be released after a certain number of hours and they were. Victims seven and twelve (Lewis Osborne, 9, Kensington, 27th December 2013; and Joseph Castle, 13, Garrett Park, November 24th 2015) had been found in daytime, but no-one saw any cars that seemed out of place.

However, victims three, eight, nine and eleven (Jeremy Grey, 15, Woodburn, 27th December 2011; Robbie Kuang, 15, Potomac, 24th June 2013; James Waterman, 13, Laytonsville, 3rd June 2014; and Ethan Berry, 14, North Bethesda, 2nd August 2015) had never been found. Maryland State Police wanted to label them as being the victims of a separate killer, but the BAU argued that the similarities were too great to be anyone but the work of a single man. All eight survivors had been recovered west in rural areas outside of D.C. They had been left at the outsides of schools or at the edges of woodland near diners and told to count to a certain number before they could take off their blindfolds. The frightened children had all been examined and evidence collected.

This was an extremely difficult case since there was suspicion that the Unsub might be a member of law enforcement. Another team had been working on the case when Joseph Castle was taken, but had been unable to pinpoint any name.

It was not the case that the team needed when they were two down.

“The latest victim is Byron Townsend,” Garcia explained, “Fourteen years old, abducted from his home at twelve-fifty this morning in Chevy Chase. Usual routine, parents tied up in their bedroom, eleven-year-old sister locked inside wardrobe. Seems like the same guy.”

Hotch examined the file on his iPad. “It’s been twenty-one days since he released Joseph Castle. It’s the shortest gap yet. He’s evolving fast.”

“Which means that Byron might not have much time.” Morgan spoke their thoughts out loud.

Hotch looked at them. “Rossi, Morgan, go to the Townsend house and speak to the parents. Garcia, take a look at the profile that the other team came up with. I’ll go talk to the officers on the case.”

“But Aaron,” Rossi said as the team leader stood up from his chair, “you look nothing like your ID.”

Hotch didn’t look back as he left the room. “I’ll handle it.”

The problem was that trying to work the case while looking young was a nightmare.

Once Rossi and Morgan had gone to talk to the Townsend family, Hotch had entered the Chevy Chase police station and found that the officer on the case, Officer Beaumont, seemed a tiny bit unsettled. He kept saying things slowly, even a tiny bit sceptical. As soon as he asked for Hotch’s superior, Hotch felt his heart sink.

His ID had been a complete mess as well. He’d had to go back home briefly and take an old photo of himself out from an album. He hadn’t wanted to do so, since a kid’s life was at stake, but Hotch could have done worse and he didn’t want to have to see if Reid still had an old ID for him to steal if the worst came to the worst.

He cleared his throat. “Sir, we are very short-staffed at present,” he folded his hands and leaned forward on the desk, “If I could please have the facts on the case that we already know about, that would be extremely helpful.”

Beaumont groaned, but opened up a bulging yellow file with ‘BETHESDA STALKER’ on the front in sticky black letters.

“You do realize it’s misleading to name an unidentified killer?” Hotch asked. The officer snorted.

“Don’t you think we worked that out after Victim Number Five?” Beaumont retorted. “Anyway, the BAU suggested that the killer was perhaps a teacher or somehow linked to the school year.”

Aaron carried on reading the notes. “Teacher, janitor, sports coach, Scout leader, even police officer.”

“Then why not go after kids at his workplace?” Beaumont shrugged.

Aaron was still focused on the interview from the last abduction. “Because he may not wish to draw attention to himself. It’s already proven with the way he handled surviving victims. Officer, Joseph Castle mentioned a red car here. He was certain that when he peeked out from his blindfold for two seconds, he saw a red car.”

“It was dawn,” the officer answered in the tone of voice that implied he was tired of Aaron, “Might be maroon. We tried, but we couldn’t find anyone in the area whose alibi checked out. Do you have any idea how many red cars are in Garrett Park alone?”

“It also says that Joseph heard a second voice,” Hotch ran his finger across the line, “It might be an accomplice’s.”

Beaumont grunted about how this was ‘getting better and better’ and told Hotch to go ‘do whatever it is the FBI do with this information’.

Hotch had the feeling that this officer wanted him out of the way. You didn’t have to chase psychopaths to work that out.

After Rossi and Morgan had been to the Townsend’s house they had decided to see Mrs Frost. Neither of them was too happy about this, but since the team actually wanted to be their proper ages again (although Morgan wasn’t so sure about Rossi) and they didn’t want to accidentally mess anything up, they chose to see her anyway.

The house had a car in front, white painted brick walls and a small pixie statue in the front yard. It didn’t really look as if the place belonged to a witch. As they passed the statue, Morgan wondered if that used to be a real pixie.

Ellie answered the door. She glanced between one and the other, gritted her teeth and growled, “Mom!”

When Mrs Frost came up, smiling and bubbly, she gestured for them to enter. “Come in! Come in! Wipe your feet on the mat.”

Morgan wondered if Mrs Frost was probably insane. He supposed being a witch might do that to you. Whenever he’d heard about fictional witches, they were usually nutty, if they weren’t evil old hags or manipulative pretty women. He thought about perhaps asking the brothers when they managed to climb out of the volcano.

The living room didn’t look as if it belonged to a witch, either. The couch, coffee table with magazines lying everywhere, the heavy curtains – all of it seemed perfectly normal. No spellbooks, cauldrons or cats. Morgan silently told himself off for being prejudicial, now that he was thinking about it.

Mrs Frost was still cheerful as she sat herself down in an armchair. “So, do you have any questions?” she asked, as if becoming half your age again was perfectly normal.

Rossi gave a loud cough and straightened up. “Mrs Frost, we understand that you were trying to help us. We know that your heart was in the right place.”

Mrs Frost pursed her lips and nodded. “Ellie told me that I had done a stupid thing. But I’m a lot kinder than many witches.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “They work with demons.”

Morgan folded his arms, trying not to laugh at the way Mrs Frost had said ‘demons’. “We just want to make sure that there isn’t anything in our way. We don’t want to, say, accidentally touch the wrong item or drink the wrong liquid.”

Mrs Frost paused for a moment. Slowly, she answered, “I believe I see what you mean. No, there isn’t anything you have to necessarily avoid. Although your immune systems will be exactly as they were when you were last this age. If any of you were on medication back then, I would advise taking it again.”

“No, it’s completely fine,” Rossi reassured her, “If there are any more problems, we’ll contact you immediately.”

Mrs Frost smiled up at them and showed them the door. Ellie was standing next to it, downtrodden. For someone who had spent the last days being scared for her life, she had started behaving like a normal teenager again. At least on the outside. Maybe her mother’s ‘gift’ had made her stroppy.

“I told Mom that she’d been stupid,” she said to the agents as they left, “I told her that this is what happens when she pokes her nose into things that are none of her business.”

Rossi stopped in the doorway, hand still on the door. “Ellie,” he asked, feeling rather awkward, “I don’t mean to be too forthcoming, but – do you have any clothes that our agent could borrow? We had to get some outfits at short notice.”

Ellie rolled her eyes, but went upstairs anyway. Morgan asked Rossi, “How are JJ and the kid?”

Rossi sighed. “Nothing prepares you for being a dad, Morgan.” It felt odd saying the word ‘dad’. It felt even stranger using that word to refer to himself.

But he was certain he could get through it. Then again, Hotch had been almost torn apart trying to be an agent and a family man.

Rossi had no idea what to do.

At Quantico, JJ and Reid had gotten bored. Maybe it was the fact that their bodies were now those of children, or maybe it was because there was nothing to do. Reid had already read five of Rossi’s books and JJ was sick of scribbling on a pink notebook that she borrowed from Garcia. Reid had tried using it and JJ found mathematics equations inside when he was done.

Maybe it was also because she was a child again, but JJ wanted to read children’s books. Trying to look through Rossi’s collection had been unexpectedly daunting and dull. Now she was skimming through National Geographic.

“The Bethesda Stalker case is rather intriguing,” Reid spoke up, sitting in Rossi’s chair, “From an outside perspective, anyway. The families are obviously in pain –“

“Reid, we’re technically not supposed to be on the case,” JJ almost smirked because, to be honest, he seemed so sweet when he couldn’t quite reach over the desk, “Why are you looking through?”

“Well, there is no medical reason that we shouldn’t be involved in the case. Anyway, Garcia’s in the computer room. No-one knows she’s fifteen. Therefore, officially, Agent Jennifer Jareau and Doctor Spencer Reid are still on this case.” Reid took out another page from the file. “Hopefully when Rossi and Morgan get back we can look at any clues from the Townsend residence.”

All JJ could think of when Reid looked through the notes was of when Henry used to find her notes when he was a toddler and would scribble on them in crayon.

She sighed inwardly as she thought about spending Christmas away from Henry and Will. She hoped that she could be able to explain to Will. Explain this nightmare she had found herself living in and kept from him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should have mentioned that I would be unavailable. I apologize for the wait.

**December 21st 2015**

It had been two days since Byron Townsend had vanished. The longest that a victim had been held was Joseph Castle, for four and a half days rather than one or two like the other boys. According to Joseph’s statement, which Hotch sat reading now at his desk, he had overheard his captor saying that he had no idea what to do with the boy. Hotch couldn’t even begin to imagine how terrified the prisoner had been when he had heard that.

It was still only a theory that the missing boys had even been murdered. But with the way the Unsub had worked, Hotch pegged him – and this was what had been placed in the profile – that this was an opportunistic person with a job that centered around school holidays. Possibly middle-class, from the rather spacious surroundings the boys had blindly stumbled about in and the fact that he was able to find his victims presumably by ways other than a hired worker, since all of these men had been checked.

Hotch thought about his own problems. He had gone home both nights, only to find Jack staring at him from doorways or Jessica only speaking to him in short sentences, trying to figure out why he suddenly appeared so much younger.

He had lain awake in bed last night when he had heard Jack from the bathroom, asking Jessica, “Why isn’t Daddy home?”

It had broken his heart.

The only person he could somewhat talk to about this was JJ. Whenever he would go along to Rossi’s office and see the two children sitting on a couch or on the floor, he would try and talk to her, but she seemed vaguely uninterested.

Maybe now that they were physically younger, were some parts of their minds temporarily the same age? He had wanted to drink a Manhattan, something he would have as treats when he was in college but didn’t enjoy so much anymore. Perhaps JJ’s mind was acting the same way it had done when she was twelve.

With Reid, however, you wouldn’t have noticed. He was still the same, scrawny, nerdy kid. The only difference now was that he hadn’t been through puberty.

The door opened and Garcia stood there, remembering a little too late that she should have knocked. She half-heartedly rapped on the door with two fingers.

“Sorry, sir,” she entered, looking anxious, “but Joseph Castle has been called back for a re-evaluation of his witness statement. Which means having to do all the stuff with the lights and JJ talking smoothly, but the thing is, she’s twelve. And I have no idea how we’re going to do this.”

Hotch sighed, pushing himself up. “OK, Garcia, let me figure it out.”

Twenty minutes later, Joseph Castle was sat in front of the machine, twisting his fingers together. His parents had been against bringing him here at first, but Hotch had persuaded them that it might save the missing boy's life. They had relented and allowed him to come.

Morgan sat opposite him and Garcia to his left. She had done her hair up in a bun and had worn a very ill-fitting black blazer in an attempt to try and seem older – ironically enough – but she still said that she felt like the fat girl at the prom.

“You’ll be fine,” Morgan had tried to persuade her, desperate to put his hand out for her even though he couldn’t when she was like this, “JJ will guide you through the earpiece.”

Only now, as Joseph’s eyes were fixated on the lights, Garcia felt ridiculous as she asked the questions. She had no clue if she seemed as motherly as JJ.

“Okay, Joseph,” Morgan attempted to encourage him to remain calm, “it’s the night you were taken. The car stops and the guy pulls you out. Tell us what you hear.”

“It’s –“ Joseph frowned, “I hear him saying – ‘little ****.’”

There was a pause. “Do you smell anything?” Morgan asked.

Joseph replied, “I think I smell wet grass. There’s a lot of grass. He’s making me walk on gravel.”

“No other distinctive smells or anything?”

“No.”

Garcia looked at Morgan as the earpiece buzzed into life. JJ, watching from beyond the one-way glass, told her, “Ask him about when he heard the Unsub speaking to someone.”

Garcia put on her best JJ voice and slowly asked Joseph, “Joseph, do you think you could fast forward slightly?”

Morgan’s eyes flickered over to his baby girl. She didn’t notice.

She took a deep breath. “When you said he didn’t know what to do with you?”

Joseph swallowed, but he remained fixed on the lights. “When he – said – that – I thought, ‘Will he kill me?’ But then – then I heard someone else speaking.”

“So he wasn’t using a phone?” Garcia asked.

“No. The voice said – ‘put him in the museum’.”

“The museum?” Morgan felt a chill run down his spine.

Joseph was tense, grabbing the seat cushions. “With the other dead boys.”

Three hours later, the image of Joseph’s terrified face still at the front of her mind, Garcia had some more information. Striding into Hotch’s office, she placed what she had found in front of him.

“In the two weeks prior to each kidnapping, the boys visited somewhere called 'The Aerodynamics Museum'. Not as grand as Air and Space, but a good place for field trips. Now, before you ask, of the twenty-three people working there at present, thirteen are male, eight have been within a mile of the museum during last Thanksgiving, five are tour guides and two live with smokers and since one of those two only has one leg, I’m pretty sure it’s a safe bet that our Unsub might be this guy.”

She slapped down a piece of paper in front of Hotch. “Leo Pearson, thirty-six, supervised each field trip that the boys’ schools went on, had access to school information from forms filled out by their chaperones, has a red car and it was a little hard to find but I found out that he had purchased a white carpet with his credit card in February 2011.” She paused for breath as Hotch took this in.

He definitely fit the profile. The problem was that Pearson had never been arrested. His only apparent guilt was that he was absent during the days the children were kidnapped. He had possible triggers; his stepfather had beaten him and probably worse during puberty, he struggled to keep relationships with women, all of whom said that he was afraid that he might be gay and he had broken up with the most recent just before the spree had begun. There was only one incident that led to a black mark against his name. Three nights after Robbie Kuang’s kidnapping, he had come back to work on the night shift and had locked the boiler room from the inside for an hour. When he had come out, the floor was soaked in bleach.

But there was simply no evidence to get a warrant.

Taking the information into the bullpen, Hotch sat around the table with Morgan, Rossi and Garcia.

“Are you sure that he’s our guy?” Morgan asked. Hotch sadly nodded.

“What’s wrong?” Garcia’s face fell.

Hotch groaned. “The problem is, this guy is squeaky clean. We don’t have any evidence. I called up the museum office and while yes, he has been absent for the previous three days and is working as a tour guide when the place is open, there’s no firm evidence that he has done anything wrong. I’m also pretty sure we won’t have time to trail him. He’ll probably kill Byron before we get there.”

“So we’re stuck?” Garcia gave a small whimper.

“Not quite,” Rossi spoke up and the others looked at him. He twisted his hands together as he looked Hotch in the eye.

“Go on.” Hotch coaxed, unsure if he even wanted to know.

“Well,” Rossi explained with his hands, “the museum offers private tours, doesn’t it? It’s a small place and it’s beaten out by Air and Space, so they’re desperate. We could go undercover on a tour. One of us goes off and looks for Byron.”

Aaron thought about it. Then he answered, “Too difficult. He’ll be suspicious of a group of adults asking for a tour he takes kids on.”

Then he groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Why not?” Rossi asked, “I’m getting bored of sitting around here. I doubt Pearson will think anything of it.”

Hotch glared at him. “Sometimes, Dave, I really dislike your ideas.”

Half an hour later Rossi was standing in the museum lobby in casual wear, although he did have an FBI vest hidden under his sweater. He’d had to book under a false name, since it was mainly FBI protocol. JJ and Reid stood either side of him, each wearing a ‘Junior Seeker’ lanyard. JJ looked around nervously while Reid adjusted his glasses and tucked his shirt in.

This better work, Rossi thought to himself.

Leo Pearson, called out from the other side of the hall as he approached, smiling. “Hello Mr McKinley!” he greeted Rossi, perhaps a little too enthusiastically; “I’m so delighted to have you here. And these must be your kids?”

Rossi wondered if Pearson acted like this all the time or if it was just an act for the child visitors. “Yes,” Rossi cleared his throat, “Jennifer and Spencer. I hope you don’t mind us paying for a private tour while the museum’s closed.”

Pearson shook his head, smiling. It was hard to believe that he may have a kid locked away in the grounds. “No problem at all.” He turned towards the two children, hands on hips, acting either far too eager or far too exaggerated.

JJ gripped Rossi’s hand, giving off the illusion of a scared child. Reid just looked up at Pearson and gave his little wave with his fingers. Pearson put his hands in his pockets and carried on smiling. “And how much are you looking forward to the private tour, all by yourselves? No boring school field trips?”

As usual, Reid dived in first. “To be honest, the history of aerodynamics is a fascinating one. ‘Aero’ comes from the Greek word for ‘air’ and aerodynamics itself is the study of air. It can sometimes be synonymous with gas dynamics, but the major difference is that gas dynamics is not limited to air. The study of aerodynamics first began in the eighteenth century and many of the earliest efforts were focused on achieving heavier-than-air flight. The first successful demonstration was in 1891 by Otto Lilienthal and since then there have been mathematical analysis in different forms to form a rational basis for development of heavier-than-air flight. So the answer is yes, I am looking forward to this field trip.”

Pearson blinked a few times before he stood up straight, clapped his hands together and replied, “Okay…Let’s start with the hot-air balloon room.”

After forty-five minutes of walking around, the three of them had reached the midpoint of the tour in the cafeteria. JJ and Reid had spent the whole time pretending to stare at the exhibits – some of which Reid found genuinely fascinating – but had actually been trying to find any place that a child could be held without anyone noticing.

If it was true that Pearson took the victims to the museum when he wanted to kill them, then he would probably have used the boiler room or a closet inside said room. He’d seen the museum layout. Reid knew which direction to go.

“Dad?” his voice wobbled as he said the word, “I need the toilet.”

“Okay,” Rossi looked over at Pearson, who was sitting at a table a few feet away, “go ahead.”

He nodded at Reid to take the chance and the boy sped off, his shoes scuffing on the polished floors. Even if Pearson had seen, the toilets were in the opposite direction to the boiler room. Reid didn’t worry.

Any more than he usually would, at any rate.

Speaking into the radio he had pulled from his jacket, he pressed the button and told Hotch, “I’m just going to investigate the boiler room. Rossi and JJ are still with Pearson.”

“Okay, Reid,” came Hotch’s answer as Reid approached the boiler room. Pearson had been the only employee in the museum, so the door would be unlocked, even if he was on a tour. Maybe he waited until those days so as to dispose of a body.

Reid hoped he wasn’t too late.

He looked around the boiler room once he pushed the door open. Pulling his lanyard off and tying it around the door latch on the inside, he turned his flashlight on and slowly made his way through.

“Byron?” he hissed, shining his flashlight from left to right, “Byron Townsend? Are you down here?”

Noticing that a nearby door was slightly ajar, Reid swallowed and inched closer. He had to be prepared for the fact that Pearson may not have been working alone and that another Unsub was behind the door with Byron. That would have been risky and terrifying enough, but at present Reid was only an eleven-year-old boy. A small, skinny eleven-year-old boy who could easily be overpowered before the others could get down here.

Reid felt for his radio on his belt, switching it on just in case. “I’m in the basement,” he whispered, “Right by the boiler room. I – left my lanyard on the door latch.”

“Okay,” he heard Morgan on the other end, “be careful.”

“Yes.” Reid didn’t know if it was his fear or the increased air pressure down here, but he was sweating buckets.

Reaching out with one finger and slowly prodding the door open, he tensed in case it creaked. But it didn’t. Shining the light inside the cupboard, he could make out the outline of a boy sitting on the concrete floor, tied to the water pipe and tape around his mouth and eyes.

“Hey, it’s all right,” Reid whispered, trying to reassure Byron, placing the flashlight on the floor and slowly reaching his hand closer to the boy’s face, “I’m just going to take the tape off, okay?” Byron nodded frantically.

“Okay.” Reid pulled the tape down and looked behind the prisoner to see if he could undo the boy’s wrists.

“What you doing here, kid?” Byron’s voice was hoarse, “Get the cops!”

“I am with the police,” Reid replied, undoing the knots. Before Byron could say anything, Reid picked up the radio and told Morgan, “Byron is in the basement. He’s alive. Go!”

Byron groaned as he stood up. “Can you walk?” Reid asked, holding the flashlight again.

“Yeah, sure,” Byron eyed Reid suspiciously, “You, err – you really with the cops?”

Reid nodded. “Yes. But I’m not as young as I look.” It had been a long time since he had said that. Even at the Bureau nobody asked that any more.

Byron raised an eyebrow as they made their way out into the main museum again. Reid could hear the sound of the SWAT team entering the plane room. Byron looked down at Reid, still a little bowled over by the fact he seemed to have been saved by a child. “So – do you have one of those anti-ageing conditions or something like that?”

“Yeah, something like that.” Reid answered as he saw Morgan coming around the corner, gun at the ready. When he saw the two boys in front of him, he made his way over to Reid.

“You all right, kid?” he asked Reid, before the youngest agent nodded.

“We’re fine,” Reid said, “We just need to get Byron out of here.”

From across the road, a car slowly drew to a halt directly opposite the museum.

He had come because Pearson had said he would be busy. That the accomplice had to use the back entrance in order to kill Byron. But it seemed as if the cops had already arrived.

The accomplice cursed his luck and was about to speed away when he took a good look at the FBI van parked outside. Pulling his binoculars out, the accomplice crouched down and took a quick peek. He had used these binoculars to find a suitable child each time, giving Pearson an alibi if police ever broke into his house. Not that they ever had him down as a suspect.

There was an older man talking to two younger men at the back of the van. On either side of him were two children, a girl and a boy about twelve years old.

The accomplice smirked as he put the binoculars down and readjusted his seat-belt, being careful to drive away under the speed limit.

He was going to free his partner before his partner betrayed him.


	4. Chapter 4

**December 22nd 2015**

The case had been a success.

Byron Townsend had been returned to his family alive. The forensics team were unearthing the wooden flooring inside a walk-in cupboard at the museum and had so far found four bodies. Leo Pearson was in custody and parents all over the Washington D.C area could breathe a sigh of relief. For the time being.

Rossi had taken the day off. When he woke JJ in the spare room and Reid on the couch in the lounge, he had told them that they were going out.

“Why?” Reid had asked, sitting up.

“Well,” Rossi had placed his hands inside his pockets, “it must be a bit dull to be stuck at Quantico every day doing nothing.”

Reid blinked at him.

Rossi tried to find the words. “Your minds – I think they reverted slightly back to how they were at that age.”

“Rossi,” Reid managed a small smile and pushed up his glasses, “I was exactly the same at age eleven as I am now.”

“I know,” Rossi shrugged, “but JJ isn’t.”

Reid peered out into the hallway, where he saw JJ reading a children’s book from the library. “I guess so,” he licked his lips, “Where are we going?”

“Somewhere where I can figure out what to get you for Christmas.” Rossi smiled down at them.

At Quantico, Hotch was looking over the file on Leo Pearson’s life. Just as Garcia had said, it was fairly unremarkable aside from his brute of a stepfather. At present Pearson was looking at forty-five to life, if he wasn’t going on Death Row, anyway.

Of course, his lawyer would say it was circumstantial. That other people had access to the boiler room. The forensics team were searching Pearson’s house right this second. But Hotch was certain that, as the original profile had said that their Unsub had made his own pornography, that there would be some of his victims in the building.

During the times that the boys had been kidnapped, Pearson’s sister – a smoker – had been away with their parents in Maryland. So far the forensics team had found the white carpet in her bedroom, as well as handcuffs and other sex toys in a box underneath her bed. It wasn’t hard evidence, but the case was mounting against Pearson.

There were discrepancies, of course. Pearson had an alibi for the dates that Lester Hunt, Tommy Daniels and Lewis Osborne had been kidnapped. On each of those nights he had called his sister. When Kerry Abram's brothers were locked inside a cupboard, they remembered that the kidnapper had poked them with his left index finger; Pearson was right-handed. A footprint found in mud outside the Maki residence said that the kidnapper had worn size eight shoes. Pearson was a size seven. None of this was incriminating, but it wasn't easily disproven, either.

All the same, the team wondered if maybe Pearson had had an accomplice.

At present, Morgan had gone in to talk to Pearson and his lawyer. Hotch looked through the one-way glass and knew that the lawyer was giving Morgan a hard time. Harder than usual, because the lawyer didn’t want to ‘have this conversation with a kid’.

Hotch sighed. Why did he let Rossi have the day off?

“You really want to do this?” JJ asked Rossi as they stood in line.

Rossi shrugged. “It’s the least I can do after dragging around at the museum.”

“He really just wants to know what we want for Christmas,” Reid pushed his glasses up, “Of course I planned on perhaps getting myself the complete collection of Charles Dickens to have a little light reading.”

JJ raised her eyebrows at ‘light reading’. Of course, this was Reid. That was perfectly normal for him.

When it was their turn inside Santa’s grotto, JJ went in by herself. She looked around and felt her heart heave when she realized she should have been bringing Henry here. The Christmas lights were twinkling, the toy reindeer were all placed about and the fake snow was crisp.

Santa peered at her. “You’re a bit old for this, aren’t you?”

_You have no idea,_ JJ told herself. Unfolding her arms, she preferred to stand a couple of inches away from the actual chair. She tried to smile, but the profiler in her was still thinking about a pedophile serial killer. Which was not something one should think of when stood inside Santa’s Grotto.

He sighed and sat up. “What’s your name, little girl?”

“Jennifer,” she replied, again attempting to smile.

“Have you been a good girl this year, Jennifer?”

_Well, I’d say that the BAU were successful this past year._ “I think so. I helped my friends a lot with their work.”

“Well, that’s very kind of you,” Santa carried on with his spiel, “Is there anything you would like for Christmas?”

JJ thought for a minute. “I’d like a boxset of _The X-Files_ , please.” It was the first thing she could think of.

“I’m sure that can be done,” Santa smiled from behind the fake beard.

Then came Reid’s voice from behind the tarp, talking to Rossi about the origins of Santa Claus. JJ looked over her shoulder. “Sorry about this; my dad and my brother are here too.” She looked a little embarrassed, but tried to stay calm.

When Rossi brought Reid around the corner, the boy was still reeling at a hundred miles an hour.

“Okay, Spencer,” Rossi tried to talk to him like a grown-up but it was quite hard when Spencer looked as young as this, “That’s enough. Why don’t you tell Santa what you want for Christmas?”

Santa looked down at Reid, a tiny bit concerned, before up at Rossi and back at JJ. She had seen that look before. Clearly Santa believed that JJ had been dragged along because her brother was disabled.

“Have you been a good boy?” Santa gave a small, exhausted sigh.

Reid paused, looking up at Rossi and then at Santa. “I believe that the number of instances where I have been good outweigh the number of times that I may have been considered bad or rebellious.”

There was a pause before Santa asked, “And what would you like for Christmas this year?”

Rossi glanced down at Reid, hoping that he would choose something relatively normal for a child.

“I guess I would like to read some puzzle books, preferably the ones that feature several different mysteries in each–“

Rossi cut him off. “Okay, I think we’ve bothered Santa long enough. Merry Christmas.”

The three of them left. Rossi felt awkward, JJ was flustered and tired and Reid wouldn’t stop talking. Basically a normal day.

Rossi was called to Quantico when they were about to leave in the car. JJ sipped at a milkshake in the back and Reid was flipping through a library book on the supposed history of magic. JJ didn’t even want to ask what he was doing.

When Rossi sighed and ended the call, he explained to the two young agents, “We have to go to Quantico. There’s an issue with Pearson’s lawyer. You don’t mind, do you?”

JJ raised an eyebrow. “Rossi, you do know that we’re not actual children, don’t you?” she almost laughed. Reid didn’t seem to have noticed, still engrossed in his book.

_I know,_ Rossi told himself off for treating them like children. He knew that they were really his teammates, but as this might have been his last chance to be a parent at Christmas, he hadn’t thought of it that way.

“Okay,” he sighed, buckling his seat-belt, “Sorry for that.”

“It’s fine,” JJ lied.

As the car started up, Reid looked up from his book, confused. “Sorry, what was going on?” he asked.

JJ gave a small smile at him. “It’s nothing, Spence. We just need to go to Quantico again.”

“Oh,” the cogs inside Reid’s mind were turning, “I see.” And with that, he carried on reading the next chapter of his book.

While the car drove away, someone watched it while ducking behind the window. Operating the camera in his hands, the accomplice started to take pictures as it drove around. Front, side, licence plate. Yes, this was going exactly as he wanted.

The conversation with Pearson and his lawyer seemed a go a lot smoother as Rossi sat in with them and Morgan.

Hotch had gone off to attempt to call the brothers again when he saw that the door to another interrogation room was open. Cautiously entering, he saw Reid sitting beneath the desk, Garcia’s iPad on one side and carving something into the table.

“Reid?” Hotch asked, crouching down to see what he was doing.

“Oh, hi Hotch.” Reid glanced at his superior for a split second before going back to what he was focused on.

Before Hotch could ask what Reid was doing and why he wasn’t back at the offices, Reid started to explain.

“I thought that perhaps some of the Unsubs and suspects we come across might not – actually be themselves,” he started to flex his fingers as he carried on talking, “So I looked up the information that Garcia downloaded onto her iPad and decided to draw what was called ‘a Devil’s Trap’ onto the table. If they can’t get up, we carry on questioning them, but if they get aggressive, we just carry out the exorcism. I have the exorcism memorized, by the way.”

Reid hadn’t even paused for breath. Hotch cleared his throat and asked him, “Are you looking forward to Christmas?”

The boy shrugged. “I think that it will make Rossi happy, that I am sure of. He’s always wanted a family. But if you mean me, then I suppose I am looking forward to spending Christmas there.” He stopped carving and looked over at Hotch. “What about you?”

Hotch looked at the floor. “I’m rather worried about Jack. He doesn’t seem to believe that it’s me. That’s understandable, but I don’t want to have to drag him into this world.”

“Why?” Reid shuffled back from underneath the table and stood up straight.

Hotch pushed himself up as well. “I’ve always told him that the monsters under the bed aren’t real. But they are. At least, there aren’t any under his bed because I checked. He was suspicious when I made him get a tattoo and drew symbols in crayon. He thought his daddy had gone crazy.” The corners of Hotch’s mouth upturned in a rare smile, which disappeared immediately. “But having to tell him all of this, about demons and vampires and werewolves and witches and all of the scary stuff that I can’t even wrap my head around…He already knows that a monster killed Mommy. I don’t know if he will be able to live with the fact that real monsters exist.”

**December 23rd 2015**

After questioning Pearson for thirty-six hours, the team had made a deal with his lawyer. Pearson would go to a holding cell over Christmas while the evidence was being examined. Of course, he had said nothing about what he had done. The profilers still believed there was an accomplice, but as Pearson was already down for one abduction and crimes against a child, he wasn't going to go anywhere.

The team had already gone out to get dinner. Well, Hotch and Rossi had gone out. Hotch was going to get Chinese and Rossi went to the grocery store.

After picking up an order, Hotch was walking past the liquor store a few doors down when he wondered about the Manhattan again. As soon as he had stepped foot inside, his heart sank as he realized that he didn’t have a proper ID. And if he did use his, people would ask questions. He internally sighed and walked out again, cursing himself.

Rossi had also gone past a store when going back. This one, however, was a bookstore. Looking around for puzzle books, he wondered about getting the kid a set that wouldn’t be too childish. In the end, he settled on a set of books labelled twelve and up. It would still make Reid seem grown up, he told himself.

Outside, he didn’t notice someone taking pictures of him from inside a car. Nor did he notice the same car driving through the traffic back to Quantico.

**December 24th 2015**  
**Quantico**

It had been two days since Pearson had been arrested. The bodies found in the boiler room were still being identified, but James Waterman had already been identified by dental records, although DNA was still being confirmed. Ethan Berry had already been confirmed and he was going home to his family. The team tried to tell themselves that these were four families getting closure, but it was hard enough to learn that your missing child was dead – even if all four families had already believed it – and over Christmas to boot.

“Hey,” Morgan came into the bullpen, “We’ve made a decision. Rossi’s house at noon. Bring Jack.”

“I’ll try,” Hotch started zipping up his briefcase, “You and Garcia coming? How is she, by the way?”

Morgan gave a hefty sigh. “Her usual, bouncy self on the outside, but I swear my baby girl’s miserable inside.”

“Because you can’t call her ‘baby girl’?” Hotch raised an eyebrow. Morgan’s eyes looked towards the ceiling. Hotch tried to encourage him, “This will all be over by New Year’s. Then you can be your normal, happy, flirty selves.”

Morgan gave a chuckle. He wouldn’t say no to that.

Hotch had picked up his briefcase and was about to leave the bullpen when his phone rang. Morgan looked over his shoulder. From the look on Hotch’s face, this was an urgent call.

“Go ahead, I can wait.” Morgan told his superior.

Hotch nodded and then answered the phone as he sighed.

“Hello, Dean.”

Morgan stopped in his tracks. Did the brothers have news about Mrs Frost? Hotch listened for a few seconds, before trying to speak, but the Winchester on the other end cut him off. It was actually slightly funny seeing Hotch trying to get a word in edgeways.

On the fourth try, Hotch finally interrupted. “Dean, we have a slight problem ourselves.”

Another pause. “Well, it’s a bit tricky. I thought your angel told you about us.”

Morgan heard a puzzled voice from the other end. Hotch sighed.

“The mother of a girl we rescued happened to be a witch. She decided to thank us and then transformed our bodies into how we looked in 1992.”

Morgan could hear the shouting even from over here. Hotch put his hand up, even though he didn’t actually need to.

“Listen, I understand that you’re in trouble and I promise that we can try – Dean! There aren’t any hex bags, or whatever they’re called, there’s no evidence that Mrs Frost was lying – because we’re profilers, Winchester. She said it would wear off at midnight on New Year’s Eve. Yes, I’m pretty sure it will. Now, what are you calling about?”

Hotch pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “A lawyer? Well, I’ll see what I can do. They’re mostly on Christmas break. You do know that it’s Christmas? Well, if I can call you in 2016 without being stared at weirdly by the guy behind the counter in a liquor store because I look underage, I’ll get on with it! Is there anything else you could suggest we do?” After another long pause, he thanked Dean and ended the call.

Hotch turned the phone off and grumbled under his breath.

“What’s happened?” Morgan asked, although it didn’t sound good from what he’d heard.

As Hotch walked briskly towards the elevator, he answered Morgan, “Sam and Dean are in a spot of bother up in New York. The trial’s due for 1st January. Personally, I’d rather have that than what we’re going through at the moment.”

It was late when Rossi had decided to get a drink. JJ was in her room and judging by the snoring from inside, she was already fast asleep. It was rather early, not quite eleven. Then again, a child’s sleep patterns differed from an adult’s.

Turning the light on in the kitchen, the profiler made his way over to the coffee pot. He’d have to put the presents out in the lounge without waking Reid somehow. He didn’t have much of a tree, as it was a small plastic one. But as he had always been told at Christmas, even when he had been a child in a rowdy Italian household, it was the gesture that counted.

Rossi heard the groaning coming from the living room as he finished pouring the coffee. Placing his cup down, he slowly made his way into the room, listening.

Spencer was asleep, but Rossi could hear him begging. It sounded even worse coming from a preteen’s mouth. As Rossi wondered whether he should go any further in, he realized he was unprepared for this situation.

He heard the names Tobias and Raphael. Then he heard the name Kelpie.

Rossi made his decision. Making his way in and turning on the lamp, he saw Spencer jolt up on the couch, hair a mess and breathing heavily. Rossi put his hands out and slowly sat down in front of the boy. “Calm down, Spencer. You were dreaming.”

Spencer swallowed and pulled his legs up to his chest. “Yeah, I – I didn’t notice.”

There was a pause. “Do you do that a lot?”

“Yes.”

Spencer pulled his hair behind his right ear, avoiding eye contact. Rossi tried coaxing him.

“Do you want to talk about it?” As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Spencer answered his question.

“I could see everything. Everything that – was going on. I saw the team. You didn’t know it wasn’t really me. You couldn’t have. The first day, when he walked into Quantico, I was screaming for one of you to notice that something was wrong. But I was completely frozen. This – this was a whole new situation that I’d fallen into and I couldn’t get out. Then he –“ Spencer’s voice trailed off.

Rossi nodded. “Go on.”

“At lunchtime he snuck off into the cold case files department and read up on the Winchester file. I saw everything that he saw. I managed to piece things together when I – slipped back to where they were holding me – but it was terrifying. To know that – that there’s a whole new world out there. One where every supernatural terror you’ve heard of is real and one was them had replaced me.

“On the second day, he spoke to me. He entered the bathroom during lunch and looked in the mirror. He pointed and told me –“

Spencer was gripping the duvet in his hands. He looked so small and helpless.

“Told you what?” Rossi asked.

“ _Shut up._ ” Then Spencer finally looked up. “That’s what he told me. _Shut up, Spencer Reid. I’ve had enough of you whinging. This spell is giving me a headache when you keep crying. And that makes me angry. You know what I’m capable of. Because you are capable of it._ ”

Spencer ran a hand down his face. After another moment of silence, Rossi asked him, “Did he ever talk to you again?”

Reid nodded. “In Utah. Kate had gone off to call the station about my theory – the theory about the Unsub having previously lived in the house. He went into the bathroom with his hands in his pockets. He smiled at his reflection and raised his right hand, waving the fingers back. Then he walked out.”

Rossi had no idea what to say. So he asked Reid if, since he was already making coffee, if he wanted one. Reid nodded wordlessly and then Rossi left the room.

Outside, through the bushes in front of the house, a pair of binoculars looked at the two as they stood in the kitchen. The accomplice could see the both of them clearly. The man had poured a cup of coffee, the boy standing limply beside him. The boy then pulled hair behind his ear and picked up his own cup, sipping at it with both hands. The man looked down at him before walking away.

The accomplice placed the binoculars down and made his way back to the car in front of the neighboring home. This was going to be easy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The reason the boys are in New York will be explained in a _Law & Order: Special Victims Unit_ story that I have planned.


	5. Chapter 5

**25th December 2015**

JJ woke up in the bed with butterflies in her stomach. She hadn’t felt this way since she had been a child. She wondered if being this age again had made her feel this way.

Getting out of bed, still in her pajamas, she made her way into the lounge. Spence was still asleep on the couch, his glasses still on and a book having fallen onto the floor.

JJ gave a small chuckle and ruffled his hair. “Happy Christmas, Spence,” she told him as he pushed himself up.

“Oh, it’s morning,” he gave a mumble, “Where’s Rossi?”

“Not sure.” JJ shrugged. Then she asked, “Before this happened, did you get any presents for the team?”

“Yeah,” Spence answered, getting out of bed and picking up his empty mug from the table, “I brought them over with me. You?”

“They’re still with Will,” JJ sat down on the couch, “I asked him if he could bring them over.”

Spence stopped in his tracks and turned around. “Does he know? About all of this?”

She sighed, pulling a loose blonde strand behind her ear. “I’m going to tell him today. Not Henry; he’s too young and he won’t understand. I just hope he believes me.”

As the two of them made their way into the kitchen, they saw Rossi already sitting at the table with a cup of coffee. The older profiler had done his best to try and make this a wonderful Christmas – Reid and JJ wondered if it was more for himself than them – and this clearly showed when he smiled down at them.

“Happy Christmas, guys,” Rossi said, “What would you like for breakfast? We’re not opening presents until the others arrive.”

“I guess I would like pancakes, please.” JJ gave a small nod. Reid only wanted OJ for now, taking a carton from the fridge and pouring himself a drink. “What time are they coming?” JJ asked as the two young agents sat at the table.

“Not until noon,” Rossi glanced at the clock and then back at the children, “You guys okay until then?”

“We’re fine,” JJ answered, before looking at Reid, who nodded back and then sipped at his juice.

JJ repeated herself and smiled at Rossi, who seemed to take this as an answer and started to search for the pancake mix.

Morgan and Garcia were the first to arrive. Coming at a few minutes before noon, Garcia had been wearing a bright purple coat that seemed to fit her bubbly personality all too well. She’d put some dangly earrings in and tried to look her best, even if she did look slightly like a kid playing dress up. Morgan had worn a loose-fitting green parka. When JJ, who had been taking their coats, asked why, he had rolled his eyes as they entered the house.

“Because Penelope was taking so long to get ready that I just pulled on the first thing I saw,” he made eyes at Garcia, who did the same, “When’s everyone else coming?”

“Soon,” JJ replied, “How’s life as teenagers again?”

“Miserable,” Garcia held her hands out in exasperation, “I feel up and down and angry and tired and really, really irritable. My hormones are out of balance and I keep craving food even though I wouldn’t normally eat it anymore. Oh and Morgan snores.” She elbowed him. He made a grunting noise but didn’t retaliate.

“Glad to see some things are the same.” JJ sniggered as they entered the lounge.

Hotch, Jessica and Jack arrived at noon. When Rossi opened the door to them, he saw that Jessica was still a little sceptical, standing with Jack a few feet away from Hotch. Jack was simply confused.

“Hi,” Rossi faced Jack, “How are you?”

“I’m okay, Uncle Dave,” he spoke softly and then he paused. “Have you dyed your hair?”

Rossi looked up at Jessica. She let out a heavy sigh. “I – I’m trying to understand all of this, Dave, I truly am.” She put a hand out. “I – just give it to me straight; is that _really_ Aaron?”

Hotch’s eyes flickered over to Rossi. The exhausted expression on his face told Rossi that the man had been dealing with this for days.

“Just –“ Rossi gestured, “come in.”

When Jessica and Jack went into the lounge, they stopped in their tracks, staring at the four other agents already here. The only response was when Garcia gave a short wave with her hand and called out, “Hello, Jack.”

“Auntie Garcia?” he stopped in his tracks, not sure whether to say that she looked younger or seemed to have put on weight.

“Jack,” Hotch stood behind his son and slowly took his hand to lead him away, “I need to talk with you.”

Hotch took his son off into the kitchen and sat him down at the table before taking a seat next to him. “Jack,” he clasped his hands and looked him in the eye, “Do you remember when I got you that tattoo?”

Jack examined Hotch’s face for a moment, before he answered, “Yeah.”

Hotch licked his lip. He hadn’t felt like this since he had had to tell Jack that his mommy wasn’t coming home. “There are bad creatures out there, Jack. Not just the bad guys I put away. There are demons, vampires, ghosts, witches, all sorts of crazy and terrifying things. A – A good witch did this to us.”

The boy stared at Hotch. For several days, he had been trying to work out if this really was his daddy. Now, as the cogs inside his mind thought about the tattoos that they had gotten and why his daddy had drawn on the wall inside Jack’s bedroom and why he had found salt on the windowsills, the boy felt a chill go through him as he asked the question.

“Are you – are you really Dad?”

Hotch nodded, pursing his lips.

The corner of Jack’s lip twitched. “Cool!” he giggled, “Ghosts are real!”

At least he was taking the news better than his father had.

Will and Henry arrived a minute later. When Rossi answered the door and lead them into the lounge, Will stopped in his tracks to look around at the guests. Eyeing JJ and Reid sitting cross-legged in front of the tree, he let go of Henry’s hand and the boy wandered over to them.

“Hello,” Will’s voice faltered, “I didn’t know that Dave had any kids.”

Henry tilted his head to one side as he stood next to Reid. Reid gave a small wave with his fingers and attempted to smile at him. Henry stood still for a moment before he looked back, puzzled, at his dad.

JJ slowly stood up and came over to Will. Holding his hands in hers, she looked up at him with sadness. “Will, honey,” she spoke slowly, “It’s Jennifer.”

Will gave a small chuckle of bewilderment, then looked closely at her. “No, Jennifer’s away in Mexico,” he replied, “She told me. She’s working on a case.”

“Will,” his wife firmly told him, “It is me. Please, you have to listen to me.”

The man shook his head, pulling his hands away. JJ curled them up and placed them close to her chest as her face fell. Will had stood up and was shaking his head. “My –“ he ran a hand over his mouth, “My wife is not a child!”

All eyes on the room looked at the two of them as Will started to run out into the garden, followed by JJ pleading for him.

Henry faced Reid, trying to figure out what was happening. “Uncle Spence?” he raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah, Henry, it’s Uncle Spence,” Reid pushed himself up.

The boy seemed to take this fact a lot easier than his father. Henry just chewed on his thumbnail and followed Reid out as the agent asked him to help set up a railroad track.

The rest of the day went by quite reasonably. The only downer on the whole thing was when JJ locked herself in the bathroom and started crying. Will hadn’t believed a word she had said. He kept telling her off for ‘being cheeky’ and wouldn’t listen to her when she had tried to prove it by reminding him of moments they had spent together.

Jessica on other hand had seemed a lot calmer and clear-headed. She had stayed quiet for most of the day, her eyes flicking between Aaron trying to cheer her up and Reid playing with the train set with Jack and Henry. She was still trying to figure out that the supernatural existed, but since Aaron had comforted her by telling her that this would be over on New Year’s Eve, she said that she would see it herself to decide if this really was Aaron.

That had seemed to be satisfying enough for the two of them.

It was a little bizarre to have a children’s table when two of the said children were actually adults, but since they were biologically children and therefore couldn’t drink (not that Reid drank anyway), JJ and Reid went along with it.

As Reid sipped at a Shirley Temple, detailing the history of the drink, JJ turned her head to look at Henry.

“Mommy,” he slowly said to her, still unsure if this really was her, “You’ve been crying.”

“Oh,” JJ wiped her eye with her fingers and prodded her fries with her fork, “Sorry about this, Henry. I truly am.”

She stirred her Pink Iced Summer forlornly and rested her cheek in her hand. The sooner that she could go home, the better. JJ found herself blowing bubbles through the straw. Gazing into the pink liquid, the profiler wondered if she was letting her child’s mind take control during her misery. She’d certainly seen a variation of this in Unsubs and victims.

When the guests had left, JJ sat down in front of the Christmas tree. In all of the drama, she had forgotten to open her presents. Picking up a large one, she gently tore at the wrapping paper. It was a boxset of the first four seasons of _The X-Files_.

Thanks, Rossi, she thought to herself, even though it had said ‘Santa’ on the card. He really had been trying.

Reid came downstairs from the bathroom, now in his pajamas. “Is that what you wanted for Christmas?” he asked JJ, placing his new puzzle book on the table.

JJ nodded. “Yes, it is.” Then she ran her hands down her face. “Spence, Will doesn’t believe me.”

“I wouldn’t expect him to,” Reid sat down beside her, “It is a lot to take in.”

The two of them sat there in silence for a few moments. When Rossi had come to the doorway to ask if JJ had opened his present yet, he saw that the two children were holding hands. Smiling to himself, he made his way out. The two didn’t even notice.

Just let the kids have some alone time, he told himself.

**December 27th 2015**

The accomplice surveyed the mansion from behind the bushes. He held his binoculars up and could see the three of them through the window. There he was; David Rossi, the novelist and FBI agent, sitting at the head of the table. The boy sat across from him, looking in his direction and still talking nineteen to the dozen. The girl came into his view and put her dinner down on the table.

Then the accomplice frowned to himself. Why would an FBI agent risk his own kids to find a child molester? He told himself that that did not matter just at this moment.

What he had to do was to wait for the right moment to strike.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies if this chapter is somewhat short. I promise you that the next one will be longer.


	6. Chapter 6

**December 28th 2015**   
**Quantico**

Hotch had gone back into work. The problem with being in the FBI was that there was always danger around them. Vacations were very difficult to get and now he had decided to go in instead of being with Jack.

The boy seemed a lot more eager to learn about the supernatural now that he knew this was his dad. Hotch had told him bits and pieces, but reminded himself to have another look at Garcia’s iPad.

He was having trouble with Pearson and his lawyer. Pearson’s sister – aged only twenty-nine but the cigarette habit made her appear much older – had said that there had been days when he had been with her.

Hotch had gone over the witness reports from the kidnapped boys and compared them. None of them seemed to have mentioned a second voice. The main hurdle was that the children had been blindfolded the whole time, as a precaution to avoid Pearson from being recognized. If that was true, then sometimes a second Unsub could have come in and abused the boys. It was not as if they would have been able to tell the difference. There definitely had been a few occasions when the abuser did not speak.

Perhaps the Unsubs alternated between abductions. Pearson could kidnap and hold the victim one time, the second Unsub at other times. No wonder it had taken so long for him to get caught.

Hotch pinched the bridge of his nose after leaving the interview room. This was going to be tough. Not only did they have to prove that an Unsub was still out there, but Pearson’s lawyer and his loud sister were saying that he was innocent.

Innocent? With four bodies beneath the boiler room at the museum? The uncomfortable-looking objects that were found in his house? The balaclava found in his drawer, one that matched the witness descriptions? The evidence was piling up and a pedophile was still out there. Time was ticking and if they didn’t get him soon, someone else’s kid might be taken.

He told himself that the best thing to do was to play a recording of Pearson’s voice to the nine survivors. But even then Hotch knew it was flimsy.

Some of the reports had said that the abductor spoke in calm tones, gently lifted the younger boys onto a bed and had asked if they were comfortable before doing anything. Pearson was a rough-sounding, snappy man and had even physically dragged victims around by their arms, swearing at them. Either he had multiple personality disorder or he had an accomplice.

By the end of the day, Hotch had made an agreement with the lawyer. Play the recording to the prior victims, have him say things that they had heard the ‘rough’ kidnapper say, then make a decision.

Hotch really needed a break. As midnight rolled by and he was about to leave, he told himself that when the New Year came, he’d take a day out with Jack. Maybe watch baseball or drive up to New York or something.

His phone vibrated on his belt as he headed for the elevator. As he stopped and pressed the down button, he answered his phone.

“Yes, Dave?”

“Aaron –“ The older profiler sounded terrified. Hotch tensed.

“Slow down, Dave,” the elevator arrived but Hotch didn’t enter, “What is it?”

“It’s the Unsub; I’m certain!” He heard Dave breathe heavily into the phone. “He’s – He’s got Reid and JJ, Aaron.”

A chill ran down Hotch’s spine. “Are you sure?”

Rossi answered as soon as the words were out of Hotch’s mouth. “He left a note.”

Hotch suddenly felt very, very frightened.

**Forty-Five Minutes Earlier**

JJ placed the entire cutlery set back in the drawer as she pulled a loose strand of hair behind her ear. It had been a very weary day and she just wanted to go to bed. Maybe it was the Christmas excitement. Maybe it was because their bodies were getting ready to grow up again.

JJ hoped that they wouldn’t spew black vomit when they grew up.

Rossi was already in bed. Spence was asleep on the couch. JJ had come down for a midnight sandwich and chose to be helpful.

Exiting the kitchen, she heard a creak beside her in the darkness. Slowly, partly from exhaustion and partly from nerves, she instead made her way to the stairs. She pricked up her ears as she tried to work out whether it had actually been a loose floorboard that she had stepped on or something worse.

When she reached the foot of the stairs JJ realized it was something worse when she felt warm breath on the back of her neck.

The light from the living room lamp turned on and Reid stirred, opening his eyes. As he reached for his glasses on the table and put them on, he felt a shiver run down his spine as he saw a large man standing at the edge of the couch. The man held a knife in one hand and had the other clamped over JJ’s mouth. The man was wearing a balaclava, gloves and long-sleeved shirt and trousers.

Reid instantly knew that this was Pearson’s accomplice. The hand holding the knife was his left; the kidnapper had sometimes seemed left-handed. He also had the same balaclava on, meaning that there was a second and therefore a second hideout. Despite everything, Reid knew that this meant the team was right.

“Get up, boy.” The man snarled. Reid held his hands up, pushing the blanket aside and doing as he said. The man lowered his hand from JJ’s mouth but then held the knife over her throat. She was trying her best to stay absolutely still but she was still frightened. The man pulled Reid closer by the wrist before turning him around and pushing him towards the doorway.

“Don’t do anything stupid.” The man gave a low whisper as he followed a few feet behind, still holding JJ.

As soon as they had got to the front door, Reid stopped, hands on his hand, looking over at the man.

“Open it,” the man growled, not wishing to waste any time. Or leave fingerprints, as he didn’t have any gloves on. Reid wondered how this man had gotten in.

Reid looked at the latch, thinking desperately to think of some clue he could leave behind. As he reached up and opened the latch, he stood outside, waiting with his fists curled up in front of his chest. Their assailant snorted and pushed the door open. For a split second, his eyes were not on Reid.

The boy moved fast, grabbing JJ’s butterfly hair slides (a Christmas present from Garcia) from the counter and hiding them inside his sleeve, turning his wrist so that they would stay wedged between his hand and his body. The man grabbed Reid by the shoulder and tugged him out, pushing him along the path to a black car waiting at the end of Rossi’s driveway.

“Are you leaving the door open?” Reid managed to ask the man.

The man ignored him. It was obvious that he had meant to leave the door open; Rossi was likely stiill awake, if barely, inside his room. He would notice the cold and come down to check. Opening the back door, the man quickly bundled the two agents inside. He growled when Reid stayed firm and didn’t move, but shoved him inside anyway.

JJ looked around her. The back row had been taken out and the windows were tinted. Instantly she knew that this was the car that Leo Pearson and his accomplice had used to transport their victims. A lump rising in her throat, she found herself looking at the man, despite all logic and reasoning screaming that she shouldn’t.

She asked, trying to keep a steady head, “You’re Leo Pearson’s accomplice, aren’t you?” She reached her arms out and held Reid closer. Reid wondered why she was doing this when he realized that she was trying to keep up the appearance of two terrified preteen siblings. It wasn’t that unnerving, come to think of it.

The man reached for something on his belt. “Sure am, kid. Now, you two going to stay quiet while I drive back home?”

The two stayed silent, JJ holding a hand on Reid’s cheek.

The accomplice smiled, even with the balaclava. “Leo and I go way back,” he explained, “and then your daddy ruined things for me. I don’t plan on hurting you; I never laid a finger on any of the boys he snatched. I just want to set Leo free.”

“That won’t happen,” Reid swallowed, “Leo Pearson is a dangerous man.”

The accomplice didn’t reply. Instead he shut the door and walked around to the other side. Then he felt on the passenger seat of his car, picking up two scarves.

“Since I plan on getting away, I think it would be a good idea if neither of you saw where we were going,” he added, quickly leaning against JJ. She let go of Reid instinctively to try and fight the man off, but she was still a thin young girl at the moment and the man tightly blindfolded her. He did the same to Reid before slamming the door shut and getting into the driver’s seat.

JJ fumbled with the knot but it was too difficult. Since it was almost midnight and the car had tinted windows, she wondered why he had bothered blindfolding them. When she worked out that escape was fruitless, JJ reached out for Reid’s hand, squeezing it tight.

“We’ll be fine,” JJ promised him under her breath, memories of Hankel and Askari flooding through her, “The team will find us.”

Reid didn’t say anything for once. He just listened, counting until they made each turn. He guessed that the car was perhaps going at twenty miles an hour and he couldn’t hear any street traffic. Odds are that they were still in the suburbs. It was also much colder than JJ would normally have guessed. She wondered why she was thinking about that when their lives were in potential danger.

Then after what seemed like a long time, the car entered what was possibly a dirt path, given by the sounds of gravel. The door opened and a hand tugged JJ out. She gave an inadvertent squeal and pushed back against the car. Reid was roughly pulled out as well and managed to grip tightly onto JJ around her waist.

“Move.” The kidnapper told them, pushing on JJ’s back. Holding Spence close, the girl slowly made her way onto mud. There was the sound of a door opening and the two of them were dragged through into a warm hallway. Then there were the sounds of several locks being opened in all different directions. Their kidnapper then took JJ’s wrist and pulled her towards a room. The whole time she kept Spence close.

When they were through, onto a wooden floor, JJ’s heart skipped a beat. The previous victims all mentioned carpeted flooring. This meant they were held in a separate room than the others. Did this mean that the accomplice had a different plan now that his partner was locked away?

“I’ll take the blindfolds off if you promise to stay in here,” the man’s voice was muffled behind the balaclava, “Okay?”

“Yes.” Spence swallowed and JJ nodded. The man did so and the two agents found that they were still standing in darkness.

The kidnapper turned on a flashlight and handed it to Spence. Then he opened the door behind him and exited, leaving them alone once he re-locked it.

Spence shone the flashlight around. The room wasn’t very big. The only furniture was one wooden bed, which took up quite a lot of the room. On top of the bed were two faux-fur blankets, one red and one yellow. A metal tray sat on the floor, with a plastic knife and fork and something that JJ recognized as the sort of food astronauts ate. It was probably from Pearson’s museum.

As JJ climbed onto the mattress, Spence just stood there like a lemon. “Spence?” she asked.

“Where do I sleep?”

JJ slowly answered, “I think we share the bed.”

Spence paused, taking one glance at the bed and then at his friend. JJ gave an awkward, unintentional smile. “Spence, he thinks we’re preteen siblings. Besides, that floor looks too hard and uncomfortable.”

Then she argued with whatever she knew he was about to say, “It’s pretty cold. We’ll need both blankets. Just come up here and try to get some sleep, all right?”

Spence didn’t say anything. He placed the flashlight on top of the mattress and snuggled down, gripping onto the pillow in his hands. He looked so young and terrified. He was young and terrified, JJ hastily reminded herself.

But she told herself that she’d rather have herself here than Henry. Squeezing her eyes shut, she tried desperately not to think of them.

How this might have been the last Christmas she would have been able to have with them and she hadn’t been home and Will had shouted at her, thinking she wasn’t his Jennifer…

No. The team would find them. Rossi would have noticed the cold and gotten up to shut the door by now. He would have contacted the rest of the team.

For now, she had to stay strong. Keep everything together. She needed to do this for Spence.

**December 29th 2015**

The moment Morgan knew something was wrong was when Garcia had turned the light on in the lounge and heard the sound of her panicking and brushing her teeth at the same time.

“Garcia?” he asked, getting up and drowsily making his way to the bathroom.

She stopped brushing her teeth and threw her arms around him, weeping into his bare chest.

Hotch had already driven over to Rossi’s house. A forensics team had been called. Hotch wondered what Rossi had told them. After ducking beneath the crime scene tape, he made his way inside,

Rossi was standing by the stairs, his arms folded and fretting. He was speaking to someone from another one of the Behavioral Analysis teams.

“And do you have a recent photo of your niece and nephew?” they asked Rossi, just as Hotch approached.

“Yeah, I took one at Christmas,” Rossi’s voice sounded strained and anxious, “My camera’s in my bedroom.”

As the agent walked away, Hotch came up. Before he could speak, Rossi held his hand up.

“I know what you’re going to say Aaron; that we should have been looking out for this guy. Yes, I believe he first saw us at the museum.” He ran a hand down the side of his face. “I don’t know what to do.”

“We look for them,” Hotch reminded himself to remain strong, “I need to see the note, Dave.”

“It was on the front of the door,” Rossi started walking over, Aaron following, “What really worries me is if something happens to them before we age again. They won’t be able to defend themselves. And if they do turn back when he’s holding them, he might lash out and –“

“Let’s not worry ourselves, Dave,” Hotch picked up the evidence bag with the note inside, “Niece and nephew?”

“I had to say _something_.”

Hotch listened for a moment, hearing the voices from another team outside. He caught quick snippets. “Jennifer and Spencer McKinley, twelve and eleven years old…since there has been a warning, I don’t think an AMBER Alert is adequate right now…an hour ago…”

Looking down at the note in his hands, Hotch read it aloud.

“ _Mr David Rossi, I have your children. If you release Leo Pearson without charge – and I am certain that you can do so without hesitation, as I believe you have very little evidence to convict him – then you will see them again. I expect him to be set free by New Year’s Day. I have been watching you since the arrest was made and I shall keep on watching you. I expect you shall contact the FBI; I have no problem with that. I will telephone you at nine o’clock. If you try to trace it, the kids die. If you follow me, the kids die. If you do anything that will alert my suspicions, the kids die. You will make your decision by ten o’clock in the evening on 31st December, at which point I will call you, if the decision has not been made already. I shall call every six hours to hear what you have to say and to assure you that the children are all right._ ”

He paused.

“He’s assertive,” he said after a while, “Meticulous, organized. Pearson possibly learned from him. Either this guy started as a submissive, or the two of them are dominants.”

“How are we going to get Pearson free, though?” Rossi felt pained, “True, he’s got flimsy evidence, but no judge will let this happen!”

“His lawyer’s already trying to convince us,” Hotch’s stomach tightened as he found himself saying this, “We need to talk to Pearson alone.”

The door opened with a clang. JJ strained as she began to wake. She looked at Reid asleep next to her, then back at the door.

The man came in, the light from the sun behind him turning him into a huge, featureless monster. Perhaps he had done this intentionally in an attempt to scare who he thought were defenseless children. Either way, it wouldn’t intimidate her. He still wore the balaclava, though.

“Awake, I see?” he remarked, uninterested. He walked further in and then placed food on the metal tray.

JJ looked at it warily. On a paper napkin laid four hash browns, two slices of toast and a miniature marmalade spread that could be found at restaurants. Two small cartons of orange juice sat on either side. When she looked up, the man shrugged.

“I have no clue how to feed kids. I usually eat out of cans or microwave food. These are the only kid-friendly stuff I had at hand.”

“It’s okay.” JJ answered as Reid started to stir next to her. The man noticed.

“If your daddy’s good, you’ll go home today.” The man’s voice indicated that he didn’t care either way.

Reid had sat up, his hair a mess. JJ handed him his glasses and he took a look up at the man who had come in. JJ could tell that the cogs inside Reid’s eidetic brain were whirring.

Inside the cell, Morgan sat across from Pearson, fuming. Pearson, on the other hand, seemed bored.

Morgan glared at Pearson. “One last time,” the agent spoke slowly and clearly, “Who is your accomplice?”

Pearson smirked. He looked around the cell and gave a small chuckle through his teeth before looking Morgan in the eye. “If he wants my release, you better make sure I get my release. Sure, I took the kids. But he’s the one that suggested locking them in the museum.”

Now that the FBI agents had lost their kids, Pearson was intrigued. He had started singing like a canary. He had admitted that he had taken the children. Envied their innocence, he had said. Work out how long he would spend with the kids before people wanted him, then he and his partner would seize the target. Pearson and the accomplice took turns in surveillance, abduction and holding. But that was all the guy said about his partner in crime.

Pearson took a deep breath and glanced towards the floor on his right. “The children…they’re the ones that your Agent Rossi brought to my museum, aren’t they? Ah, yes, I remember. That boy had a mouth on him. I am _certain_ that means that he’s making my friend _very_ happy right now…”

Hotch quickly ran in because he knew that if he didn’t then Morgan would start strangling the prisoner.

“Leo Pearson,” Hotch threw down the photo of Reid and JJ on Rossi’s couch, “We’ll make things easier for you. Give up your accomplice and bring the children home and we’ll try to negotiate with your lawyer.”

Pearson sat back, folding his hands. “And what would you do, Agent?” he asked in a dulcet tone.

Hotch hated saying this, but he knew that he had to. “We’ll ask to avoid the death penalty.”

“I’m probably going to avoid it anyway,” Pearson rolled his eyes, “Since my friend did the killings, not me.” At least that was a start.

“Four boys still died because you abducted them.”

“They should have obeyed me!” Pearson snapped, “They took their blindfolds off.”

Hotch then knew that the theory had been correct. “Why did they?” he asked in an attempt to trick Pearson.

The man grew angry. “Because they were ignorant little *****! I found Jeremy in the room with his blindfold off. He was looking out of the window. He’d know where we were, even though I said it all looked the same. We had to get rid of him.”

Hotch was thinking. The only victim that had managed to take a good look of his surroundings had been Stuart Boyd. Stuart had said that he had been held in a room that was completely dark even though it was daytime, once the door had opened and he had seen a crack of daylight. While that would have made sense with the museum’s boiler room, or even Pearson’s home, wedged between tall buildings so that the sun never shone on the back door, it didn’t with this statement.

If Jeremy was killed because he would have recognized the surroundings then that meant that he was held something with a unique landmark or somewhere different from the rest of the D.C area. The thought of boats being heard from surviving victims’ testimonies made Hotch think of a recognizable boathouse. Or maybe it was a barn or a warning sign. Maybe even graffiti.

Either way, the accounts from previous victims and what Pearson had given away, along with the survivors being found between Dawsonville and Seneca, made Hotch suspect that the accomplice lived out in the country.

The door opened and Hotch spoke to the person behind it. Morgan’s eyes did not leave Pearson once. When Hotch came back, he slammed the picture of JJ and Spencer down onto the table, the two of them sitting by the camera, smiling. At least, Spencer was trying to smile.

“These children,” Hotch spoke slowly and firmly, “are being held by a pedophile. If he does anything – I mean anything – to them, this is on your head. I don’t think a jury would listen to whatever you spout if you let that happen.”

Pearson glared at Hotch, tilting his head slightly to the left, pursing his lips. “I’ll think on it.”

_He wants his friend to have more time with them,_ Morgan said to himself, resisting the urge to rip off this man’s parts.

Pearson was willing to reveal. But he wanted to carry on tormenting the BAU for as long as he would be allowed.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is possibly the most unnerving thing I have written in a while. There is no actual violence, more of a Hitchcockian _suggestion_ of violence.
> 
> A few months after I had written _Mole_ , I reread some of it and then realized I had made one part much more unsettling than I had meant it to be. When Kelpie is unmasked, he brags about how he could have instead harmed Jack or Henry or flown to Las Vegas and attacked Spencer's mother. Looking back over that statement, I realized that Spencer saw through Kelpie's eyes when the shapeshifter attempted to rape JJ. Then I imagined Kelpie doing the same thing to Spencer's schizophrenic mother.
> 
> Personally, that section was the most unintentionally terrifying thing I have ever written.
> 
> EDIT: I truly did feel disgusting writing some of this chapter. As a result, I went back and edited it, something I have not had to do since my Buzzfeed Unsolved story on 'Megan is Missing'. I had to take a shower after writing that particular story.
> 
> The problem is that I think I made the Unsub _too_ realistic and made him into a monster. I hope you forgive me and I have rectified the story as much as I could without changing the structure. I would still love to hear your opinions on this story, as I see there have been a lot of kudos already. I thank everyone who has enjoyed my story so far and I will place the final chapter up soon.

**December 29th 2015**

“Now,” the accomplice placed a dial-up telephone on the bed in front of the agents, “we’re going to call your daddy. Don’t say a word unless I say so.”

The accomplice dialed the number and they waited. JJ had moved on the bed so that she was in front of Reid, shielding him from this man. She glared at the man, unsure if he had even noticed.

Then they heard Rossi’s voice on the other end. “Hello?”

“Hello, David Rossi,” the kidnapper straightened up, “Now listen to me very carefully. I want Leo Pearson set free.”

There was a pause. Then Rossi spoke, his voice firm but still shaking, “I want to speak to the children.”

“They’re right here,” the accomplice turned to JJ and handed her the receiver, “Speak up.”

JJ cleared her throat. “Hello,” she swallowed, “We’re – we’re fine, Rossi.” Then she looked at the accomplice, worried because she’d slipped. He didn’t act as if he had noticed, though he almost certainly did.

“Where’s Spencer?”

“He’s right here,” JJ gripped Reid’s hand in her own, “We’re – we’re okay. Please, just do what he says –“

“Jennifer,” they heard Hotch take over, “Are you hurt?”

“No, Uncle Aaron,” she quickly replied, “I want to go home.”

Then the accomplice took over. “The kids are fine,” he growled into the receiver after snatching it back, “Have you made a decision yet?”

“It will take time,” Hotch informed him, “but we are in the process of setting him free. We have spoken to his lawyer and there is very little evidence to convict Pearson.”

JJ and Reid knew this was a partial lie. While it was true that the evidence was not solid, there was enough to hold him.

The accomplice, on the other hand, seemed pleased. “I will call back at noon,” he told the agents, “I expect there to have been further developments.”

He placed the phone down and picked up the metal tray with the napkins still present. He looked at the two children for a few moments before he grabbed the telephone and walked out of the room, bolting the door behind him.

“Reid?” JJ asked him, “Are you all right?”

“I think so,” Reid mumbled, gripping onto the pillow, “Don’t worry, JJ.”

She didn’t know what that meant, but decided not to press any further in case the accomplice was listening.

At Quantico, Rossi placed his phone down on the table in the bullpen before holding his head in his hands. He struggled to try and think of a situation like this where it had ended well for the victim. The kidnapper had been very precise with his note. How many kidnappings had been similar to this?

Thoughts of the JonBenet Ramsey case flooded his mind. But the girl had been found dead. As was Bobby Greenlease forty years prior. Heiress Barbara Mackle was held for four days in an underground coffin before she was found alive. Katie Beers had been held prisoner over New Year’s Eve 1992 in a concrete bunker for seventeen days and abused by a man she knew.

Rossi did not like the odds.

“Dave,” Aaron’s voice brought him back to the present, “We’ll find them.”

“How?” Rossi’s throat was hoarse.

Aaron looked his friend in the eyes as he told him. “We had bloodhounds at the house. They picked up the agents’ scent. I think JJ and Reid left a window open. Only a crack, so the kidnapper didn’t notice. But they’re trailing the scent. A couple of minutes ago, they had tracked them all the way to Dawsonville. The trail went cold then, though. But chances are that they’re close.”

For the first time since the agents had been abducted, Rossi found himself smiling. Even as children, Reid and JJ were profilers.

Reid wondered if his plan had worked. He had felt for the crank as soon as they had been forced into the car. It was an older make, so it had been a hand-crank rather than an electronic one. An electronic one may have been overheard.

He had also dropped one of JJ’s hair slides into the snow before he was shoved inside. He had had four left when they had driven away. Counting each time the car had made a turning, he guessed that they were somewhere southwest of Interstate 270. There were just a scattering of villages and farms out that way. If he tried to run, Reid might find himself lost.

He had placed one more hair slide, one with JJ’s hair still attached, between the seats in the back. When the car had been slowing down and turning corners very slowly, Reid had guessed that this had meant they had been approaching their destination. Slowly and carefully, he had dropped another hair slide out of the window. The fourth hair slide had been dropped when he heard the car begin to drive on gravel.

He had one more left. He hoped it would come in handy.

It was noon when the kidnapper came back in. This time he was carrying two mugs of hot chocolate. “I expect you must be cold down here,” he said through his balaclava, handing the two children the drinks, “I didn’t have the proper facilities for children.”

The two agents stared up at him with suspicion for a few seconds, before shakily taking them.

“You mean like the ones you held your other victims in?” JJ found herself saying. She suspected the man was glowering from behind the balaclava. He crouched down in front of her and she put her free arm out in front of Reid.

“I admit, we have taken children,” the man spoke calmly, “I will not hurt you. I keep my promises. But the thing is, I also promised to Leo that if any of our hostages ever saw our faces, then we would have no choice but to harm them. I do not desire to hurt obedient children,” the kidnapper reached out to pull loose hair behind JJ’s ear, “and I told your daddy that you would be unharmed if he did what I said.”

Morgan was out with the bloodhounds and their handlers. He crossed his arms and looked around the bare, frozen fields. There were very few people living in this area, but they were all being questioned.

As he squinted in the midday winter sun, Morgan imagined the Unsub. His previous victims. Lewis Osborne had been held for twenty-two hours and was now afraid of the dark. Lester Hunt had been punched in the face (presumably by Leo) and beaten with a belt whilst he heard the sound of a camera whirring.

A video camera…

_Only one bullet in that gun, boy._

Hankel.

Morgan closed his eyes and pressed his palm to his forehead, before running it down his face.

_You could have said ‘no’._

Buford.

Shutting his eyes may have been a bad idea. Morgan saw the inside of Buford’s cabin, just as he imagined the inside of Leo and his friend’s torture room. Morgan had read the reports. The Unsub's victims screaming and pleading…

Derek Morgan silently begging Carl Buford…

Spencer Reid screaming and pleading.

_You’ll know that you can’t do a thing…holding close somebody else young and skinny?_

Kelpie.

“Agent Morgan?” The profiler opened his eyes and saw a handler coming up behind him.

“Yes?” Morgan couldn’t stop his voice from quivering.

The handler held up a hair slide in a plastic evidence bag. “One of the bloodhounds was barking at this. There was another one outside the abduction site and down the road. I think your agent said that the girl’s hair slides were missing?”

Morgan nodded, pursing his lips. “Yeah, he did. Where was it, exactly?”

He followed the handler down the path as the man carried on. “At a turning. They can’t track the scent anymore, though. But it’s been pretty good so far.”

Morgan pointed. “How many buildings down that path?”

“Five,” the handler informed him.

“Good,” Morgan uncrossed his arms and felt for his phone, “I need everyone to search these places. Remember to also look inside anywhere that seems abandoned.” Then he held his hand out as the handler started to move away. “Be careful; he said that he would know if we were near.”

The accomplice had his balaclava on when he returned to the basement room late that afternoon. Spencer had fallen asleep in the bed. JJ wasn’t sure if it was because there was something in the drink or not. She’d barely drunk anything herself.

She turned towards the door when the accomplice started talking. “You have cocoa down your front.” He looked directly at her.

JJ looked down. It was true; she’d gotten some around the collar. The accomplice held his hand out for her. “I’ll get that sorted. Come with me.”

JJ nervously looked back towards Spencer. “I – I don’t want to leave him alone…”

“He’ll be out cold for a good few hours,” the accomplice told her, in an attempt to be kind, “Now, you wouldn’t want to make me angry, would you?”

She shook her head and started to walk towards the door. He briskly pushed her out and locked the door behind them. The hallway was still dark, JJ noticed. The curtains were closed and the lights were off. It was also still dark out there. She wondered how he could see. Maybe he had eyes like a cat’s.

He gently pushed on her back, making her walk toward another door. When he opened it for her, JJ saw that this room didn’t have a window. It did have lighting, though, which made her rather scared. The Unsubs tried so hard to make sure that their captives didn’t work out where they were. What did this mean for her?

The room had a beige carpet with a brown, sad-looking couch by the wall. Some shelves lined the wall next to it and there was, bizarrely, a vanity set on the wall opposite. At least, she thought it was a vanity set. There was no mirror. There were also small scratches down the sides, as if torn by nails gripping hard. The lighting was orange, rather dim, but it was scary enough for her anyway.

She sat on the couch, pulling her legs up against her chest as she watched the accomplice go over to the shelves. JJ certainly did not like the look of most of the objects on there. She knew what most of them were for. The accomplice wouldn’t think that a twelve-year-old girl would know what they were for. But she definitely did. Remembering the vast differences between Unsubs, JJ wondered if his bringing her in here was an attempt to make her more comfortable. It was certainly not working.

The accomplice picked up a box from underneath the shelves and placed it on the couch. JJ’s heart beat nineteen to the dozen as he opened it. But to her confusion and relief, he instead pulled out a _Cardcaptor Sakura_ pajama top and handed it over to her.

She looked up at him, puzzled. “They used to be my partner’s sister’s,” he gabbled, “He keeps a lot of their things in my house. Stuff she doesn't want anymore but he doesn't want to throw away, As well as some...personal things. I think they’ll fit.”

JJ wondered why Leo kept his younger sister’s things in a room inside a house where his torture victims were placed. But enough of that at the moment; she had no idea where to change. Hopefully he wouldn’t make her change in front of him.

The accomplice seemed to be reading her thoughts and gave a slight chuckle. “There’s a bathroom behind the vanity set,” he explained, and JJ wondered if that used to belong to Leo’s sister as well, “I’ll move it.”

When he pushed it away, JJ noticed that there indeed was a door. Opening the door outwards, he waited for her to get up from the couch and go inside. Once he had shut the door, JJ felt for the light. Switching it on, her hands still trembling, she took a good look around. It was a normal bathroom, perhaps the only normal thing in this house. Glancing at the bath, she felt a lump in her throat as she thought of how the victims said that before they were released, Leo had ‘washed them like a mother bathing a child’.

Yanking her top off and pulling on the surprisingly comfy pink one on, she called out in a trembling voice, “I’m ready.”

She turned the light off, just in case he would be angry. But the accomplice didn’t appear to have noticed. He took her out again and pushed the vanity set back. Then he grabbed her by the upper arm and sat her on the couch.

JJ started to go tense. She wondered how close the team were to finding them. She wanted them so badly. She wanted Will and Henry. She let a silent tear roll down her cheek unnoticed before the accomplice lifted her chin up to look at him.

“I’m not going to hurt the both of you,” he attempted to reassure her, “It’s Jennifer, right?”

She nodded. He let go and sat beside her. “There’s no need to worry; you’ll see your dad soon.” Then he asked, “Where’s your mom? I didn’t see one at Christmas.”

 _You were spying on us at Christmas?_ she thought. Then again, it did match their modus operandi. “She’s abroad,” JJ managed to murmur, “She couldn’t come home.”

He asked, “What’s her name?”

“Emily.” JJ said the first name that came into her head.

He nodded. “I read your dad’s biography online,” he sounded confused, “It doesn’t mention kids.”

“Dad’s a very private man,” JJ mumbled, looking down at the ground and gripping her legs with her small fingers.

“I understand,” the accomplice said, “Leo’s the only family I’ve got. I want him free.”

 _Your ‘family’ is a murderous pedophile; he doesn’t deserve to be free,_ she felt like saying.

Then he asked her slowly, “Do – do you know why he’s been arrested?”

JJ nodded. “He did bad things to children. He killed children.”

“He only killed them because they saw his face,” the accomplice’s voice was now very serious and he spoke in a deep whisper, moving closer to her, “I always told him, ‘don’t take big boys, big boys will fight you’. But the big boys all took off their blindfolds and tried to get out of there. But I’m not going to hurt any more big boys. Don’t you worry, Jennifer." 

Hotch hadn’t been able to sleep.

It wasn’t just because of the incessant worry. He kept having the same dream over and over and it tormented him inside.

Reid and JJ had already been missing for over twenty-four hours and the search had already combed several fields and large properties. They had even searched the woods and the Seneca River. All of the victims had been found on that road, so it made sense that Leo’s partner lived or worked on that road, even if he had taken precaution in transporting captives.

Aaron found himself glancing at the framed photo he kept in his drawer. Opening it, he brushed his finger against Haley’s slender form.

She had been in his nightmares. A result of reading into the supernatural. What he knew now...

_Foyet in the living room, cackling horribly, his pupils yellow…Haley dragged up to the ceiling, screaming… covered in flames, flames that licked the whole room…shouting for Jack to get out of the house…_

_”The supernatural’s real, Jack.”_

_Setting a match, throwing it down into the snow-covered ground._

_“The supernatural’s real, Jack.”_

“Sir?”

Garcia’s quiet voice brought Hotch back to reality. He looked up at the confused girl, before sitting up on the couch and looking her in the eye.

“Yes, Garcia?”

“I think I might have found our Unsub,” her voice was scarcely more than a whisper, “We found a house belonging to a courier who lives by the farms. He’s called Andreas Poulson. Thirty-one, moved here from Wisconsin in 2007. His father left his mother in 1991 and left her to bring up three children by herself. She routinely beat her children. His mother had similar views to Carrie’s mother in the Stephen King book. Not so much the religious stuff but she had a very warped mind.“ Garcia cleared her throat, “A firm believer in 'use the rod, spare the child' for _everything_. Abuse boys and they will respect women and not be homosexual, girls and they will become prudes. Basically she believed you could abuse the hormones out of a child. Has that woman never heard of the links between childhood sexual abuse and prostitutes?”

Andreas certainly sounded like an Unsub. “And is there anything else connecting him to Pearson?” Hotch felt a chill go down his spine as he started to wonder.

Garcia nodded before she went back to what she had found. “He delivers to the museum, six of his regular addresses are within a few blocks of either previous victims’ houses or the schools, frequents some of the same places as Leo and the cherry on the top of this sundae of horror, Leo’s sister orders stuff from his residence.”

“Where’s his house?” Hotch stood up from the desk, ready to walk out.

Garcia followed him, still talking. “Approximately here,” she pointed on a map on her iPad, “Hotch, you will save them?”

Hotch faced her as the elevator doors opened. He didn’t say anything, but fixed her with a slightly more sympathetic expression than usual.

When JJ went back into the basement room, she saw Spence still asleep in the bed, snoring softly. Kicking the tray out of the way, JJ climbed in beside him and held him close. She stroked his hair, as she did with Henry when he was cranky or scared.

Because she felt scared. Very scared.

**December 30th 2015**

Reid woke up just after midnight. Stretching his arms and legs out and flexing his fingers, he sat up in order to clean his glasses. Turning the flashlight on, he saw JJ sitting beside him, the blanket pulled up over her legs. Her eyes were wide and frightened.

“JJ?” he asked, concerned.

“I’m fine, Spence,” she argued, “He didn’t hurt me.”

“Then why do you seem upset?” Reid sat up properly beside her.

She shared a distraught look with him. Swallowing, she replied, “I’m not going to say, Spence. Anyway, he might be listening. If we say anything that makes us sound as if we are anything other than children, he might get suspicious.”

His eyes grew wide. "He didn't -"

JJ responded quickly. "No. But he -" she cupped her hand and then whispered as softly as she could into Spence's ear, " - has enough evidence to put the both of them on Death Row." 

Less than half a mile away, Rossi drove the jeep down the road, a SWAT car following them. Hotch sat beside him.

“Aaron,” Rossi broke the silence after a while, “I didn’t want to tell you this and this isn’t exactly the best time, but, err…about two weeks ago, someone dug up Haley’s grave. They burned her bones and covered her body in rock salt. They’d also tried to rebury her when they were disturbed by the groundskeeper.”

Hotch stayed silent, looking ahead into the darkness.

“Aaron?” his friend tried again.

“Just keeping driving, Dave.” Hotch’s voice was calm and piercing.

Rossi knew that tone all too well. Aaron knew something. But he wasn’t telling.

When the kidnapper opened the door, JJ instinctively grabbed onto Spence, pulling the blanket close with her other hand, her feet hanging over the side. She thought about how similar this made them look to portraits she had seen of the Princes in the Tower.

And everyone knew how that possibly ended.

The accomplice had come further into the room and pulled her from the bed.

“Get off of her!” Spence had shouted, trying to hold onto JJ. But the kidnapper had taken JJ out of the room before Spence could do anything.

As the kidnapper locked the door behind them, he grabbed a scarf from the table beside the door, tying it tightly around JJ’s eyes.

“You and I – are going to take a little journey, Jennifer,” he informed her, “because I need to make sure – your daddy and his friends can’t trace the phone when I make the new call.”

He then yanked her wrists behind her back and began tying them. Slightly startled, JJ tried to struggle, but then he grabbed her shoulder and pulled her ear close to his mouth. “I’ve been patient and decided to talk with you because I don’t want to tempt myself. But if you fight me again then I _will_ hurt your brother.”

JJ went very still. He dragged her out of the front door and across the cold, gravel path to the car. This time, however, the kidnapper opened the trunk and pushed her inside. The back seats were absent so the trunk was actually both of these areas, but she guessed that he wanted the upper hand by placing her on her side this time.

The kidnapper started up the engine and began driving away when JJ heard the sound of another vehicle approaching.

Then, to her surprise and joy, she heard Hotch’s voice.

“Andreas Poulson, you are surrounded!” Hotch exited the vehicle and stormed up.

JJ heard the kidnapper swear. Then he stepped on the gas. JJ let out a scream as the car hurtled down the road, only stopping once the car had smashed into a tree.

Hotch and Rossi started running up to the car, the SWAT team beginning to approach the house. Rossi checked the front, seeing Poulson lying across the steering wheel. Rossi was unsure if the kidnapper was dead or alive, but he certainly wasn’t running anywhere.

Hearing faint sobs, Hotch lifted the lid of the trunk. Shining a light inside, he saw JJ lying there.

“JJ?” he asked, pulling the blindfold down, “It’s Hotch. Do you know where Reid is?”

She nodded as Hotch started to free her hands. “He’s inside the house,” she managed to say between sobs, “He’s okay, I promise. The Unsub just locked him in the basement. He was shouting when we left.”

Hearing those words caused Hotch’s heart to miss a beat. Feeling relief for the first time since the children had been abducted, he felt a great weight being lifted from his shoulders.

They were safe.

That was all that mattered.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that I said no-one from _Supernatural_ would appear. But it appears as if I have lied.
> 
> I am sorry that this chapter took quite some time. I am very bad at writing conclusions. Nevertheless, I hope you have enjoyed my story.
> 
> I do not know when my _Law & Order: Special Victims Unit_ story will be up, but I do have a faint outline in my head.

**December 30th 2015**  
**Quantico**

“They’re doing well,” Garcia’s voice sounded from the speaker on Rossi’s desk, as he and Morgan sat listening, “They’re just going for an examination now.”

“I’m just glad we found them in time,” Morgan rubbed his arm, still jittery from the whole event.

Garcia sighed from the other end. “JJ and my junior g-man were lucky. Oh, if I had my chance with those – those _freaks_ – I would rip their –“

“Penelope?” Morgan reminded her.

“Oh. Right.” Then she asked, “We’re changing back at midnight tomorrow, aren’t we?”

“If Mrs Frost was correct,” Rossi told her.

“Okay,” Garcia sniffled, “Well, I’d better go in now.”

As she turned the phone off, she walked up to Hotch, who had just come out of the examination room with Reid. Garcia knelt down and held the youngest agent tight to her chest. “I was so worried,” she cried, “You’re okay? Aren’t you?”

As she drew back, Reid nodded. “I’m fine, Garcia,” he firmly told her, “He didn’t hurt us.”

“Thank goodness for that,” the corners of her lips twitched in a relived smile, then looked up at Hotch, “What now?”

“JJ’s still undergoing her exam,” Hotch replied, “They’ll have to record a statement for when Pearson eventually goes to trial. It’s going to be a video recording and will be completed before we change back.”

“Yeah, sure,” Garcia pushed herself to her feet, “Rossi and Morgan said that we’ll change back at midnight tomorrow.”

“I know.” Hotch reminded her.

**December 31st 2015**  
**Quantico**

Rossi sat in his office and looked at the photo newly framed inside his drawer. The one of Reid and JJ sitting underneath the Christmas tree, holding hands and smiling. Of course, he wouldn’t be able to take it out of his desk without anyone questioning him, but Rossi wanted to keep this as a memento of the only time he had been a parent at Christmas.

The two of them had taken their statements in hospital, with Rossi acting as guardian, via video. So far as the rest of Quantico were concerned, Jennifer and Spencer McKinley had been successfully rescued from Andreas Poulson – now deceased – and would be listed as unnamed hostages in news reports. Frankly, it showed the FBI as having been the heroes of a prolonged and difficult investigation to get two kidnappers caught.

There was a knock at the door and Rossi looked up to see Garcia standing there. “Phone for you, sir.”

Rossi smiled at her and held out his hand for the phone as she left the room.

“Oh, hello,” he said as soon as he heard Sam’s voice, “How’s New York?”

Garcia watched from outside, fiddling with her pink press-on nails. She could see Rossi nodding as he spoke to the younger, moderately calmer and more reasonable Winchester.

“I see,” Rossi strummed his fingers on the desk, “I will see to getting you a lawyer. We’ve been rather held back over the last few days.”

A pause. “No, nothing you guys need concern yourself about. I – I’m having a look for a lawyer as we speak,” Rossi started thumbing through his address book, “I – wish you the best. Thank you.”

As he put the phone down, Garcia could see his stress seem to drain away now that another problem was supposedly resolved.

Garcia just hoped that the main issue at hand would be resolved tonight and then she could flirt with Morgan again.

As midnight approached, the profilers were at Rossi’s house. Jessica had brought Jack along, as had Will and Henry. Will, however, frowned when he saw JJ at the door, taking people’s coats. He instead threw his at her and walked away. Henry gave her a sympathetic look – or as much of a sympathetic look that a seven-year-old can give – and followed his dad.

At the moment Henry and Will were upstairs, the little boy having fallen asleep in the spare room.

On the couch, as the minutes ticked down, JJ lay on Garcia’s side as the technical analyst rubbed her arm and held her close. Hotch kept looking nervously at Jessica, wondering what her reaction was going to be.

Rossi looked at his young agents; JJ on the couch and Reid sitting on the floor, his legs pulled close to his chest.

Rossi had been a dad. He had been a dad for only a short while, but he wondered if he had done the best he could. True, nobody could have expected the abduction, but he was sure that he had tried to help them. JJ and Reid, his little children, looking after them and making sure that they were happy and safe.

Wasn’t that what a parent did?

He was still thinking this as midnight struck. As the sounds of fireworks and faint ringing came from outside, the team started to glow slightly.

Jessica held Jack as the two of them stared. But after what could only have been a second but felt like several moments, the six profilers were grown again.

Jack held out his hand and reached for his daddy smiling down at him. Jessica blinked a few times, a swarm of questions flying about inside.

Garcia gave a squeal of delight, her hands in her long hair, turning to Morgan and kissing him quickly. Then she pulled back, blushing, before pulling a strand of hair behind her ear.

Rossi glanced in the mirror. He was old again. But he didn’t really care. Not as long as he felt like himself again.

Reid’s eyes slowly looked down over his body. The pajamas had torn when he grew too big for them. “Err, Rossi,” he mumbled, “I think I need to change.”

“Okay,” Rossi was looking away so as not to embarrass Reid, “go upstairs.”

JJ had also torn her clothes when she grew big. Feeling the tip of her finger along her front teeth, she felt relief when she didn’t find braces.

Following Reid upstairs, she stopped as the door to the spare room opened. Will came out and then had a good look at her. For some reason, he didn’t seem to care that his wife appeared to be in ripped pajamas.

“Hi, Jennifer,” he embraced her, holding his arms around her, “How was Mexico?”

JJ inwardly sighed. Would she ever tell him? Maybe she could show him a picture of herself from middle school and then explain to him what had gone on.

She didn’t know.

“I’m fine, Will.” But she wondered if she was.

**Three Years Later**

Dean stood at the front door, knocking on the porch. “Hello?” he called, “Winchester.”

There were the sounds of faint footsteps before the door opened on a latch. A lanky, pale boy looked out at him, before holding out a small ceramic bowl of water.

Dean raised his eyebrow for a second before dipping his finger in. the boy called to someone inside, “He’s clean!”

The door opened and Dean peered inside. Coming down the wooden floor was Aaron Hotchner, wearing a green plaid shirt and holding a shovel under his arm. “Hey, Dean,” the ex-profiler greeted him, “Just had some business with a vampire. Long story short, we’ve now got one buried under the peonies.”

“That’s number nine since we moved in,” Jack crossed his arms and leaned against the banister, “This life isn’t what I expected it to be.”

Aaron still kept his eyes on Dean, but told his boy, “Jack, why don’t you go outside and check the silver bullets?” After his son walked out, Aaron looked Dean in the eye as he told him, “It isn’t what I expected it to be, either. But since I left the BAU –“ he fiddled with his shovel nervously, “I needed to do something. I still felt as if I had to save people.”

Dean looked out into the garden with the tall trees, where the boy was perched in the branches and playing target practice with a pellet gun. “You still needed to save people, hunt things.”

Aaron gave a quick smile. “But now it’s my family business. Our first demon was actually about a month after that youth fiasco; some nutcase draining prostitutes by the river. We brought him in but found that he couldn’t move from the Devil’s Trap that had been etched into the table. Interrogated him privately but he refused to co-operate. So the kid read out the exorcism over the phone and the demon gave in. He left the guy’s body. We managed to provide different fingerprints and pretended that some other creep had killed the women. It’s not perfect, but we had to do something.”

Then he asked, “How’s your family, Dean?”

Dean seemed a little saddened. He tried not to show it, but Aaron hadn’t been a lawyer and then a profiler for nothing.

“I can understand, Dean,” he nodded, “Even if you won’t tell me. It’s tough, our lives.”

“I know,” Dean answered, “I know all too well.”

Aaron turned his head towards the kitchen. “I made pasta if you want some. I got the recipe from Agent Rossi.”

“Can’t say no to a free meal,” Dean smirked and followed the man, who had started calling his son inside.


End file.
